


Come Home to Me (You are my Home)

by Itslivibitch



Series: The Misadventures of the Lion and the Lamb [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Big Brother Clint, Bucky doesn't really know what is going on, Bucky is bipolar as hell, Bucky understands her crazy miming, But really who wouldnt be, Clint Barton has a farm, Darcy is still sassy sans voice, Darcy is super smart, Darcy is the little sister he never knew he wanted, Darcy the Mechanical Engineer, Darcyland, Deaf Clint Barton, E I E I OH, F/M, He is literally the only one, He swears like a sailor, He's kind of all over the place, James is a kicked puppy, Like genuis level smart, M/M, SHIELD Agent Darcy Lewis, SHIP DARCY WITH ALL THE THINGS, So many dads, Steve wants to help, Try to guess which cliche I'm going to use that one with, We must protect the winter soldier, and who is the lamb, ha, it is known, who is the lion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itslivibitch/pseuds/Itslivibitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Captain America is a dick, and I may never forgive him. Like, ever. I swear to Thor, the guy is a douche-canoe of epic proportions and he is never getting a customized playlist from me ever again."</p><p>Darcy Lewis will learn to rue the day she agreed to do a favor for Steve, because it led her down a whole other rabbit hole, and she was perfectly happy <i>not</i> being Alice, thank you very much.<br/>But she did fall for his earnest 'Aw Shucks Ma'am' routine, and she did accidentally adopt a certain ex Russian Spysassin into her heart (And her bed?) So now she has to deal with the ensuing journey to Wonderland, which is fitting, because frankly, She's Mad, He's Mad, They're all a little mad there.</p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Darcy isn't sure if SHE has Stockholm Syndrome, or if Bucky does; and it's just been a really weird few months, okay?</p><p>Note: The prologue is in first person - which some people don't like, but its super short and after that it switches to third for the rest of the story !</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue : Star-Fucking-Bucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello, thankyou for taking the time to read my fic ! Please feel free to leave a comment [Or if you REALLY must, a Kudos ;)] and give some constructive critism! 
> 
> ALSO! I really would love a Beta reader! So any volunteers for that would make me oh so so happy :)

Captain America is a dick, and I may never forgive him. Like, ever. I swear to Thor, the guy is a douche-canoe of epic proportions and he is never getting a customized playlist from me ever again. Come on Darcy, he said, puppy dog eyes trained in on me with full power, This isn’t even a real mission, Just surveillance, it’ll be easy, he said. Just surveillance my ass. He’d asked me to help him out on a teeny tiny ‘personal’ problem, something that should have been easy for someone who was training to be an Agent of SHIELD, before, well, ya know, the whole shit fight in DC. There was a group of men who he believed had been involved with the day to day care of the Winter Soldier, before he did his whole ‘Free Willy’ impersonation.

 

Problem was, bless his righteous soul, the good ole Captain forgot one tiny detail about my stupid, ex Poli-sci student self. I suck at this whole covert thing. Literally, the one time I got sent out on a mission with a senior agent I got us both stuck in a well for over 36 hours. An honest to god, slimy as hell, cold, wet, water well. We weren’t even supposed to get out of our car! But in my defence, I really had to pee and there was a very promising looking clump of trees that I would have made it to had I not tripped and taken a horrible little vacay where even lassie dared not go.

 

Anyways, so there I was, in a Starbucks of all places, (Do not even get me started on the epic shitfest that is Starbucks), and I was surveilling these guys, when the only thing I’m really qualified to survey since my good old SO up and abandoned me is the coffee order of a senior agent. So I’m staring at this group of dudes, but in like a totally covert way, when all of a sudden one of them just grabs me by the arms and drags me outside. I mean the nerve! He didn’t even bother trying to be subtle about it! He was just all douchey and muscly and totally hot, which by the way, is totally not fair because cute faces should not happen to bad people, especially Hydra people. I told him this, of course, because I have awful verbal diarrhoea, and I’m pretty sure if anyone ever decided that I was valuable enough to kidnap because of the whole Thor thing I would accidently tell them everything they wanted to know before they even had to torture me. Which is probably the reason I never really upgraded from ‘coffee girl’ after Hawkeye stopped trying to train me when SHIELD commandeered my employment from Jane in what they’d called an ‘opportunity’ and an ‘enticing pay rise’ and I called ‘inappropriate timing’ and a ‘violation of privacy’, but I was pretty sure was just a way of ensuring I didn’t blurt something stupid to some stranger or slow Jane down in her research into the rainbow road. Which, I personally found insulting, I mean really, I did help save the world that time in London. Not to mention I built every single machine in Janes lab from scratch. But every time I voiced this opinion I was given a condescending look and told a Mechanical Engineer without even so much as a completed Political Science degree was of no use to them. The bastards.

 

So now, ladies and gentlemen, we round to present time, aka me standing in a dingy DC back alley surrounded by Hydra goons and nobody to blame but Steve Rodgers and my shitty surveillance skills. Tall , Hot and Douchey was holding me up against the wall by my throat, which I must say wasn’t my favourite thing in the world, and his pals, Captain Cockface and Sergeant Shortass were making the creepy serial killer eyes at me.

“So I guess your toothbrush got blown up along with the Triskellion then,” I intoned to THD before wincing as he tightened his hold on my throat and sneering in my face. Ugh. Total murder breath dudebro, not cool.

“Is that … Octopus I smell?” I gasped out, spots were dancing before my eyes by this point and I was really really beginning to wish I had a brain to mouth filter. Also that I’d found time to keep up with the more physical aspect of my training after Clint bounced. Or that I had my Taser in my hoodie pocket, instead of in my huge bag back inside the Starbucks. Jesus, the list of regrets I’m going out with is huge, while we’re at it I might as well add never growing the balls to pinch Captain Apple Ass’, well, ass.

 

Just as I was about to tap out on the whole breathing thing I found myself abruptly on the floor and once again consuming oxygen. Yay! I mean, so what if I was doing the goldfish thing and making weird gaspy noises. I almost died. There were literal spots in my vision, I totally saw the light. And it absolutely was of the ‘Come-to-the-dark-side-we-have-cookies’ variety, and not the street light at the entrance to the alley. Of this I am totally 98.7% sure.

“Ты в порядке там кукла?” a raspy voice asked from somewhere to the left. To the left. Everything I own in a box to the left. Ha, Oh Beyoncé you never fail me in my times of need.

 

 

“The hell is Beyoncé?” Oh, Guess I said that out loud, awkward. Speaking of awkward, my word vomit is totally not as awkward as the actual vomit that I did all over my saviours shoes after I finally opened my eyes and saw three Super-Dead-Hot-Douchey-Evil-Hydra-Goons just beyond a pair of worn combat boots.

“Ugh, I am so sorry, You totally just saved my life and then I spaced out and then I vomited on your shoes, God, I knew I wasn’t cut out for this super spy stuff, but does Barton listen to me? No! Of course not! He has to be all ‘Hey Darcy, come work for SHIELD, we aren’t as shady and awful as you think! There will be free coffee always! It’ll be fun’ and then he has to go and fucking abandon me and then stupid fucking Captain America and his stupid fucking righteousness and stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and his stupid fucking search for the goddam fucking shitty Winter Soldier and now with the fucking dead guys and ugh, I need a zanax and like seven and a half shots of tequila and oh my god dude is that an AK-47 in your duffle bag?!” I finally paused my tirade to look up into the slightly confused face of a sort of homeless looking guy with one metal hand and – oh fuck. The Winter Soldier. James. Bucky fucking Barnes. Fuck.

 

After what felt like an eternity of me aimlessly opening and closing my mouth and staring at him with wide eyes he cracked a tiny smirk.

“I gotta say doll, I haven’t heard that many ‘fucks’ in one sentence since my army days, and even then, you still might take the cake,” His rusty accent and twinkling blue eyes brought me crashing back to reality and the pain in my throat crashing to the surface as I managed two more words before passing out.

“Fuckin A,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Ты в порядке там кукла? = You okay there doll?
> 
> Or so google translate tells me, my Russian is pretty much limited to violent cussing and Mishka.


	2. Is There a Dead Body in Here or is That Just You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo Yo Yoyoyoyo
> 
> So homigod, I want to say thanks to everyone for all their comments and kudos' (Kudosi?) it really means so much! I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter!
> 
> Please feel free to keep the comments and Kudos coming ;)

Darcy Lewis would like it to be known, or at the very least suspected, that she would have been incredibly normal and boring, had she not been kind of, sort of, super lazy that one time she needed to find an internship to procure the final six credits to graduate college. She would also like it to be noted, that she totally never _received_ said credits thanks to those asshole jack-booted thugs from SHIELD and the way they made all of Jane’s work disappear for ‘National Security’ – no, for _‘Universal Security’._

Essentially, thanks to SHIELD and their credit-blocking ways, she took a very long, very unpaid, permanent vacation from her degree and ended up becoming the permanent intern to the craziest, most loveable 90-pound scientist to ever science.

But she _did_ procrastinate, she _did_ end up becoming Jane’s assistant, and _then_ she chose to run towards the stupid towering transformer on steroids and to help evacuate people instead of running towards the bar and drowning herself in a boilermaker; and _then_ she was all ‘You know what? Screw those six credits, screw college, screw Norse fucking Gods that drop in to save the world from their homicidal but strangely attractive adopted-brothers and don’t bother to call, let’s go to London Jane! Let’s drag your boyfriend’s crazy ass back from Asgard and rip him a new one!’ And of course _,_ of _course,_ she had to be all about saving the world from homicidal escapees from a freaking Tolkien novel.

So, instead of waking up with a degree, a student loan that wasn’t infuriatingly pointless, and in a bed that didn’t feel like it had fleas; she was in some sort of damp, smelly _hovel,_ filled with weapons and sporting a banging headed and a scorching pain radiating from her oesophagus to her gut. Well, to be fair, it was more like a budget motel, but potato, _potato,_ right?

“You’re up, good, s’ beginning to think you’d died,” A rough voice from the dingy kitchen tabled called and she bolted into an upright position, staring across the dark room with wide eyes. _Oh crap, oh yeah. Winter Soldier, I hate Captain America, Evil Hydra Goons. Right._

“M’not the one that smells like death,” She managed to croak out before curling into a foetal position and coughing violently. _Ah yes_ , she thought grimly, _the sweet feeling of constricted airways_. Two hands, one flesh and one metal, helped her into a sitting position once more and handed her a glass of water.

“Drink, and for goddsake, shut up,” he muttered gruffly and proceeded to slap his hand over her mouth as she opened it, her words of protest died in her throat at the look in his eyes. She then, of course, licked said hand – because apparently boundaries are not a thing anymore. Whatever. He totally kidnapped (saved?) her, so throwing stones in a glass house and all that.

 

Although, instead of recoiling his hand in disgust and deciding to finish the job Hydra started, he merely raised an eyebrow and refused to budge. She couldn’t help but feel a little grossed out herself, because, realistically, that probably wasn’t very sanitary. Odds where he had total death cooties, or maybe even fleas, really the odds of him carrying around a little bottle of Dettol were incredibly low. Even as she ran through the things he could have touched in-between his last shower and now, she couldn’t muster up a whole lot of disgust – mostly because recent events seriously used up her emergency supply of fucks, and she really had none left to give.

 

A flash of concern lit up his blue eyes as they met their match for a moment longer before he finally released his hand and looked pointedly at the glass before wiping his hand on his trousers.

“Drink, it’ll help,” the words were little more than a grunt, and before Darcy could even begin to process what she had seen, he was back at the rickety table and disassembling a Glock.

 

She briefly toyed with the idea of making a run for the door and praying she would get far enough to call for help, but the minute shake of his head as he glanced back at her had her shoulders slumping back into the headboard. She then considered screaming for help, but the clearing of her throat and the ensuing searing pain sent that that idea careening into the ‘Stupid’ pile. She considered him for a moment before narrowing her eyes and deciding on a course of action, annoying him into either releasing her or spilling his guts. Although preferably not literally.

Wincing at the ache she felt all over her body – what was _with_ that anyway? Seriously. – she rose from the, frankly disgusting, motel bed and plonked herself down in the chair across from him, propping her chin in her hands and giving him her best ‘Unimpressed Coulson’ stare, which was actually pretty similar to her ‘Ecstatic Coulson’ face, but whatever. _Also,_ she thought admittedly, _I probably couldn’t even intimidate a toddler right now, let alone a highly trained uber brainwashed ex? Current? Confused? Hydra Assassin._

 

His concentration didn’t waver from the service pistol he was cleaning at her approach and subsequent stare, save for the tick in his jaw as she shifted in her seat and winced at the dull throbbing that seemed to flare like white hot fire at every single breath she took. Without so much as a glance in her direction – rude, much? – He tossed her a cold compress and a little white pill. She weighed up her options and that one date rape lecture she attended in her freshman year of college before rolling her eyes and swallowing it anyway. What? She knew his full name, and he totally saved her life, the fact that he may be holding her hostage was really just semantics, besides, her throat _really fucking hurt_ like oh my Thor, seriously, how much worse could it really get?

 

 _Alright, Darcy, think annoying._ She intoned, _you can do this! What’s incredibly annoying? Drums. Finger drums. Phil Collins Finger Drums!_ Without further ado, she began tapping out the beat to ‘In the Air Tonight’ on the crappy Formica tabletop, she resisted the urge to supplement her tapping with beat-boxing, but figured it was a necessary, if a little sad, concession to make in wake of her fallen voice. May it rest in peace. It lived a long and incredibly loud life. By the second run-through of the chorus though, she was beginning to feel desperate, he hadn’t so much as twitched since she began her - quite impressive - drum solo, and, well, desperate times.

“I can feel it com-Ah, Ah fuck _me_ that really hurts,” she stuttered to a stop and placed both hands over her throbbing throat. _Well,_ she thought balefully, _desperate times apparently make for crappy and painful decisions. Noted._

 

On the up side, that _did_ get a reaction out of him, he finally raised his head to give what was probably meant to be an intimidating glare but was somewhat softened by the concerned crease above his eyebrows as he sighed heavily.

“Are you about done Stephen Morris?” he asked exasperatedly and _Holy shit the Hyrda Spysassian knows about Joy Division._ Instead of demanding to know how he got all learned-up in Pop-Culture when Steve was still stuck on creepy horror movies from the Eighties, she ducked her head meekly – not a word she _ever_ envisioned implying to herself - and tried to communicate her need for a really hot shower and a bed that was less flea infested and more, well, _hers,_ in a single glance. In other words she gave him puppy-dog eyes that put Steve “Do-As-I-Say-I’m-Adorable” Rodgers to shame. And okay, maybe there was a little bit of pantomiming happening, but only a little, and it was very tasteful and to the point. There was only like, three bouts of jazz-hands. Okay, okay, jeez, _four_ bouts of jazz hands.

 

Instead of shooting what Darcy was beginning to realize was a trademark exasperated glare in her direction, his mouth turned up into a small smirk that slowly, but surely, transformed into a full on smile, and by the end of her mime turned impromptu Broadway-esque rendition of ‘Get Me The Hell Out of Here and Into a Hot Shower’, actual laughter. Yeah, like sounds of joy. Happiness. The fucker. She wouldn’t have believed laughter were possible coming from him if she hadn’t witnessed it herself.

 

She found it hard to keep up any real annoyance at the man who seemed to transform with the act, the frown lines she had assumed were part of his face gave way to more pleasant crinkles at the edge of his eyes and the dimple in his chin deepened with his mirth. She couldn’t help but feel like she might don stripes and lock herself in an imaginary box if that was what it took to get him to do this again.

 

Finally, his gasping sounds of mirth subsided, and he raised an eyebrow at her again, with none of the lingering harshness that she was used to he reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a pen and pad of paper, sliding it across the table and depositing it in front of her. Before he could even withdraw his arm she was scribbling a list of demands. Squinting her eyes and biting her tongue she wrote the first line and underlined it twice as he watched on with amused interest.

 

_ Things Darcy Needs Like Right Now Immediately Please and Thankyou _

_-A hot shower (Like really REALLY hot)_

_-Clean clothes (Is that blood on my t-shirt?? How the fuck did I get blood on my t-shirt?!)_

_-New friends (seriously)_

_-A toothbrush_

_-A new career (Seriously for real)_

When she finished writing, Darcy gave the list one final glance, nodded her head once and shoved it back across the table before crossing her arms and trying her damnedest to glare a hole in his face. Realistically, it was probably one of the fondest stares he’d received in over seventy years, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead, he gazed at her demands seriously before standing and gathering up his only other shirt and offering it to her with a sheepish smile.

“It’s uh, all I have in the way of clothing, but you can wear it until we can get you something else,”

 

At his statement she snatched the paper back and began scribbling furiously once more, and if he stared a little too long at the crease in her forehead and the way she tilted her whole body to the right as she wrote, there was nobody around to tell on him. Apparently finished with what appeared to be a whole paragraph she pushed the notepad into his chest before slumping back into her seat and clutching his long sleeved grey t-shirt in her dirty hands.

 

_How long exactly do you plan on keeping me here?! Because I’ll have you know I have plans next Thursday, and if I don’t show my Dads will be PISSED. Day of the Dads is like the most important Lewis holiday ever. And three of them are Seals, like the deadliest guys ever.  They will not hesitate to track you down and like waterboard you or do something else in a blatant violation of the Geneva Convention_

“I- Three of them? How many fathers do you _have?”_ asked Bucky, his brow was furrowed as he stared at  her, instead of answering, because _Hello, Pain_ , she made grabby hands for the pad once more, and set about her manic scribbling with a renewed frustration at the age-old question. Seriously, she was so sick of having people act like her abundance of dads was _so_ weird, kids with straight parents totally had two sets all the time, and nobody ever questioned it.

 

_Way to miss the point, Robocop. I have four fathers, not that it’s any of your business, but divorce isn’t like an exclusively straight thing so take your judgey homophobic stupid 40’s mouth and use it to tell me WHEN I CAN LEAVE_

What? So she’s a little protective of her family, who isn’t?

“Hey now, doll, I grew up in Brooklyn during the prohibition. Do you really think I haven’t known my fair share of gays?” he asked, giving her an amused look before dragging his chair around the table and setting himself down in front of her with a much more serious expression.

“I know – I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I, uh, I need your help, see, I read your SHIELD file from when Natalia did that huge file dump, and I saw that you were good with machines,” at this he gave her a nervous look, waiting for her hesitant nod of confirmation before he rushed on, his words jumbling together in his haste to get them out.

“The thing is, after what happened on the Heli-carrier, my arm has been, not malfunctioning exactly, but not performing to its full potential, and I needed someone who could help fix it, and you seemed like the kind of person who could do that, so uh, when you finish you can leave, and go to your thing with your family and I can avoid a potentially awkward situation with the torture and all that,”

 

Darcy tried to not feel sorry for him, she really did, after all, he had invaded her privacy and sort of kidnapped her; but she couldn’t help herself. Darcy Lewis was and always will be, a sucker for things that needed fixing; She’d been pulling apart anything and everything she could get her hands on from age three, just so she could see how they tick, and Bucky’s arm, well, it wasn’t just anything. It was a masterpiece of technology, and she could feel her desire to tinker quickly overriding any ill tidings she may have towards tall, dark, deadly. So, with one curt nod she brushed past him and walked towards what she was certain was going to be a dismally cold shower with a goal and an end in sight.

 

\----------

 

Thirty minutes and one wildly unsatisfying shower later, Darcy emerged from the bathroom feeling, well, admittedly she was feeling pretty shitty. But she was not going to let that get her down! No siree, she was going to put on her big girl panties and do what needed to be done.

 

She was going to be cool, calm, and collected; she was going to fix the beautiful piece of mechanical art; and then she was going to go home and enjoy the over-the-top bi-annual bonanza that is The Day of the Dads (Yes, the capitals are _absolutely_ necessary thank you very much).

 

She was going to do all these things, and she would have, had James (Bucky? Sergeant? Capsicle 2.0?) not been completely shirtless and fiddling with his body armour. _Well,_ she thought, somewhat calmly, _It was good knowing you, common sense and rational thinking, now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go climb that hunk of a human being like a tree._

“Enjoying the show, doll?” He asked, his mouth was turned up in a teasing smirk as he wriggled his eyebrows in a slightly demented looking fashion. In lieu of any other real options she merely rolled her eyes and flopped back down on the bed, never taking her eyes off him as he shrugged both finely sculpted arms into his ensemble and began strapping what appeared to be all the fire arms in the state of Washington to his person.

 

In response to her questioning eyebrow raise his mood swung from playful to serious as he opened his mouth to explain.

“We’ve been here too long, it’s time for us to move on,” And then, as if their lives were a Bond movie and his words were the queue, gunfire shattered the window and destroyed the terrifyingly floral wallpaper.

“спускаться!” James yelled, his voice a far cry from the playful tone from a few moments ago as he slung a canvas bag over his shoulder and grabbed one final handgun. Darcy could hear his arm clicking and whirring as it round up for battle from the hiding spot she had (not so gracefully) flung herself on to on the floor at the first sign of trouble. Mama didn’t raise no fool – Well, okay, mama didn’t raise at all. But in all fairness, ‘Papa(s) didn’t raise no fool’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. Even if three out of four of those Papa’s were Navy Seals and badasses of the highest order.  Darcy found herself idly wondering how her life got so goddam dramatic when a silver hand snatched her from her hiding place and flung her into the bathroom. Closing the door behind them, James peered out the window and sighed resignedly, before rolling his shoulders, pulling out an extra gun and nodding at the bath tub.“Get in, stay down, and for Goddsake Не умереть,” he switched from English to Russian so seamlessly that if she had to wager a guess, Darcy would say he didn’t even know he was doing it. But, because of the aforementioned lack of foolishness, she decided to do as he said and huddled miserably in the damp confines of a bathing station that would probably give her mould poisoning if she stayed too long.  She peered anxiously through the curtain as he slipped through the door and tried her hardest not to wince at the cries of dying men as he tore through them, one by one, every bit the perfect soldier. She counted fourteen anguished screams and subsequent thuds before she could hear a muffled conversation.  “Zimniy soldat,” a deep voice rumbled, “Come home, you do not belong here, you are no longer the man you used to be, and the longer you pretend you are the more it will haunt you in the end,” Darcy immediately disliked this faceless villain, and for the first time, she felt a real pang of pity as she considered all that James had gone through. The thought alone of the pain he must have had inflicted upon him made her nauseous. “I may not be the man I used to be, but I’m sure as _fuck_ not the weapon you want me to be,” James snarled in return before she heard a sickening crunch that she silently cheered for. _What kind of person does that make me?_ She wondered futilely before she was dragged out of her reprieve by the opening of the door and the reappearance of James.  “Come on, we need to get out of here and find somewhere else to hide,” As soon as he said the words, Darcy knew she had the solution. Quirking her mouth up in some semblance of a smile she opened her mouth and offered up in her bravest whisper“I know just the place,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations yo
> 
> спускаться: Get Down!
> 
> Не умереть: Do not die
> 
> Zimniy soldat: Winter Soldier
> 
> Next Time: Darcy remembers her time with her SO during a nice long car ride, Darcy and Bucky argue like children over the radio station, And Darcy is a Badass Badass that Badasses


	3. Reasons Why You Should Never Fuck With Mommas Tunes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Bucky saves Darcy's life, and then he kind of kidnaps her - but hey, who's she to look a gift horse in the mouth?

_London – 2013 – Three Weeks Post Alien Invasion_

“Look, all I’m saying is we should maybe find a bigger flat! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for seeing Mr. Cut and Godly and Always Naked over there, but I draw the line at listening to the two of you go at it like jack rabbits. Also, the whole Erik pantless thing is starting to freak me out a little,” Darcy and Jane had been having this same argument ever since Thor had returned, Jane was so wrapped up in Science and, well, the literal God of Thunder, that she didn’t even notice the complete and total lack of space – nor did she seem to care that Thor was _always_ leaving his goddamn hammer on her favourite fucking magazines. _Always._

Darcy would have moved out herself, except she had literally no money as her job was, yep, still unpaid – and okay, technically not a _job_ job, but more of a concerned friend tagging along, but still! Also, she didn’t want to leave poor, confuddled Erik to deal with the two primates going at it in Exhibit 2.

 

She was actually seriously beginning to consider homelessness as a legitimate option when there was a knock on the door that revealed HawkGuy (Or was it Hawk _Eye_?) with a duffle bag and a compound bow strapped to his back.

“Oh no! No _way_ are we sharing this two bedroom flat with _another_ man,”

 

\-----------

 

_London – 2013 – Four Weeks Post Alien Invasion_

 

“Wait, wait, wait – you want me to do _what_ now?!” Darcy couldn’t keep the incredulousness out of her voice – for damn good reason, if you asked her. She was the intern, the _Poli-Sci_ intern, she wasn’t scientific, she wasn’t athletic, she really wasn’t anything ending in ‘ic’. She was just Darcy Anne Lewis. And now this crazy fool with his arms and his distractingly charming smile was trying to get her to go work for the evil thugs that _stole her iPod_. 

 

“Look,” he began, placing his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ motion, “I know that it’s not something you would ordinarily consider pursuing but Phi- _Agent_ Coulson, he saw something in you, and he was always planning on recruiting you eventually. Seriously, the way you acted in Puente Antiguo was really brave, and then again in London – I really think you would make a great Agent. Plus, we have fantastic Hazard pay,” He gave a dazzling smile and a wink on his last sentence and she rolled her eyes so violently she was a little afraid they were going to fall out of her head.

 

“Yeah, because you almost die _all the time,”_ she snarked and he raised one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug.

“That’s all a part of the fun, babe,” Okay, she totally did not just consider throwing her panties in his face at that little smirk just then. Nope, not at all.

“C’mon,” he continued, a shit eating grin on his face, “It’ll be great! I’ll teach you how to shoot a gun, throw some knives, maybe even a bow! Plus, we have great unlimited coffee. Oh, and I’ll get your iPod back for you,”

“You had me at iPod, HawkGuy,”

“For the _last time_ it’s Hawk _Eye_ ,”

 

\-----------

 

_Middle of Butt-fuck, Nowhere – 6 Weeks After the fall of SHIELD_

After they exited what Darcy summarised to be the ‘dingiest fucking run-down piece of shit motel’ she had _ever_ seen (And she grew up in _Wisconsin_ for heaven’s sake) Bucky glanced wildly around at the cars with an odd unsure expression she had never seen him wear before. Rolling her eyes at his hesitance she made her way to the closest beat up old truck she could see and proceeded to pop the lock and hotwire the engine. By the time she was finished she turned around to see him giving her a dumbfounded stare, and instead of snarking at him (Because, _hello pain_ ) she simply raised an eyebrow and gave him her best ‘What? I have layers’ look.

 

“Yeah, yeah, your Daddy’s were Marines, I got the memo doll,” he chuffed wryly. Instead of crossing around to the passenger side like Darcy expected him to, he took a step into her space and placed one of his hands on her leg and the other of her hip, he caressed her lightly with a small smile on his lips, before giving a swift shove and sliding her across the bench seat.

“’M’ Drivin’,” he informed her with a shit eating grin before shifting into gear at pulling out of the car park and ignoring her indignant squawks of rage and rapidly forming blush at being manhandled.

\-----------

 

_Location Classified – 2013 – Two Months Post Alien Invasion_

 

“No, no, no, no, no! Wrong! You are _all_ wrong! I would totally win in a fight against The Arrow,” This was the same argument they’d had every Wednesday since she had joined SHIELD, Clint was always adamant that he could kick any other Archers ass, but Darcy was pretty sure any man wearing Guyliner _that_ well could throw down with the best of them.  

 

Their start had been, admittedly, pretty rocky; but a month into their newly found relationship as Rookie Agent and Supervising officer, they had found a nice niche somewhere between ‘Co-workers’ and ‘Family’. Most of the other Agents avoided Clint because of the New York Thing (They never talked about the New York Thing – Never) And nobody wanted to go near the stray that Barton had dragged in to honour a man so newly lost it still had him waking up screaming every other night. So, in order to survive, they had banded together to create an unlikely alliance. The kid from Iowa with a shady past and an archaic weapon and the girl from Wisconsin who said whatever came to mind and was quick to whip out her trusty Taser.

 

“Look – all I’m saying is, hey! What are you doing?!” Darcy demanded, she had cultivated a very compelling argument as to why Oliver Queen was a worthy opponent and here was this asshole, going to extremes to ignore it.

“I’m taking out my hearing aids, what does it look like I’m doing? I cannot listen to you call this fool dreamy anymore! I’m done!” he exclaimed dramatically, stowing them away in his pocket and giving her a triumphant smile.

“Oh yeah?” She signed emphatically, “It’s not my fault you can’t accept that he has a cuter butt than you!”

“Oh hell no! You did _not_ just say that!”

 

\------------

_Some Dirt Road in Idaho – 6 Weeks After the Fall of SHIELD_

The Winter Soldier did not have a musical preference. In fact, he preferred silence. James Barnes, on the other hand, was a classic rock fan, through and through. Now we aren’t talking about no rock ballads here, oh no, we are talking full-tilt-, head banging, invisible guitar solo inducing _rock music_. And Darcy Lewis was _not_ impressed. She had a headache the size of Texas and the temperament of an injured bear, _and_ she hadn’t eaten in _over thirty hours._ Suffice to say, Darcy Lewis was about ready to cut a bitch.

 

Rather than cause bloodshed (Or at least _attempt_ it) she decided she would cut short the world’s worst rave by switching to something a little less, well, loud. As the calming sounds of the classical station began flowing through the speakers at a blissfully lower decibel she felt herself relaxing further back into the faded leather of the Chevy pickup and finally shut her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the roaring headache slowly fading away.

 

Only to have it be brought roaring back as the soothing sounds of Bach were once again replaced with one of ACDC’s finest screamers. That sneaky mother fucker. Prying her eyes open she cast a look at the smug bastards profile, with his stupid little smirk and steady gaze on the ridiculously long stretch of road laying ahead. She hated him. Well, like, not _hated_ exactly, but she would totally have some choice words for the asshole if he hadn’t hidden her paper and pad somewhere beyond her reach.

 

Steeling her resolve, she quickly leant forwards and aggressively stabbed the button to bring back Bach. (Ha) Only to have _him_ calmly flip the switch back to ‘I’m living in the Eighties FM’. Back it went to classical with a small noise of frustration. And again to the Rock, this time with a snicker. And Bach. And Rock. And Bach. And Rock. And Bach. And Rock. And -

 

“Arrghhmpphh!” Darcy screeched, causing him to jump in his seat and turn to look at her full on, her eyes were wide and her face was red as she glared at him and stabbed the off button on the radio before winding down the window, tossing it out, and settling down against the door and pointedly facing away from him.

 

\-----------

 

_Location Classified – 2013 – 10 Weeks Post Alien Invasion_

 

“Wow,”

“Yeah,”

“So you and Coulson were-“

“Yeah,”

“Wow,”

 

Darcy didn’t know what she was supposed to do with this information, they had been in the middle of a sparring session when she had flipped him onto the floor and was about to begin gloating when he opened his mouth and told her he hadn’t been sleeping well because the love of his life would never be there to chase away the nightmares ever again.

 

So here they were, sitting back up against the wall of the deserted gym, and Darcy knew that it had happened. They were officially family, she suspected his relationship with Coulson probably wasn’t a huge secret, but for him to offer up the information willingly, when she usually had to pry things like his favourite food from him with threats and bribes, was monumental.

 

She felt like she had to offer something with significance up in return, something nobody really knew about her – mostly because she thought it was too painful to ever share, but here was Clint, her best friend, her mentor, her family, and he was trusting her. So she owed it to him, and to herself to do the same.

 

“I met my birth mother, once,” she said quietly and while his body stayed propped against the wall, his eyes travelled to hers with surprise. In answer to his unspoken question she looked down and smiled slightly before continuing.

“My whole life, I wondered why she’d given me up, if it was because she didn’t want me, or if someone made her, I just really needed to know.

 

“So when I was about fifteen, right after my Dad’s got a divorce, I hacked into the Birth registry and found my birth certificate. Abigail Miller was her name. She was twenty when she had me, there was no record of a Father. Which I suppose should have been kind of relief, I mean, I already had so many Dad’s, and a girl can only take so many Dad jokes,” Her feeble attempt at humour fell flat as his level stare prompted her to continue her story.

 

“Anyway, I spent weeks tracking her, I found out she’d kind of become a drug addict since she gave me up, with like, heaps of arrests and a record a mile long and all that. Eventually, I found out that she was living in these apartments in the worst part of LA, so I ran away in the middle of the night and caught a bus there.

 

“I just wanted to look her in the eyes and ask her why she didn’t want me – y’know? So, um, when I got there, I was just this stupid kid in a shitty neighbourhood, I was so scared, like so fucking scared. But I didn’t care, I had my mission, I knew what I needed to be done. So I found this house, and it didn’t even have a front door, it looked pretty abandoned, actually, apart from the uh, the junkies, passed out in the lounge room.

 

“I looked for probably twenty minutes in this house, and just as I was about to give up, I hear this noise in the bathroom, this whimpering. It sounded so sad, so pitiful, so I opened the door and I saw her. She had a gun in her hand and it was pointed at her head, and she looked up at me, and she smiled. She said ‘God has sent me an angel to take me home’ and then she pulled the trigger.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever run as fast as I did that day, I ran for what seemed like hours. And then when I couldn’t run anymore I just sat down in this abandoned park and I called my Dad. I remember I was crying so hard I could barely talk, but I remember telling him that I just wanted to come home, that I was sorry, that I loved him, that I was so stupid to leave.

 

“I never told anyone what I saw, not for lack of trying on their part. But I realized something that day, just because she gave birth to me didn’t make us family, it didn’t make her obligated to love me, to care for me. Because that’s not what family is, the most important family you have is the one you choose, because they don’t have to love you, to forgive you for the stupid things you’ve done, but they do anyway,”

 

Finally, she looked up and met his eyes, in them she saw he understood what she was trying to say – she was saying she chose him, and that they were a family now. He reached out and took her hand, and they sat like that, hand in hand, content in the knowledge that they had family in each other, for a very long time.

 

\-----------

 

_Triskelion (Location Classified) – 3 Months Post Alien invasion_

“Wait – Wait, we have a mission?! Like I actually get to use these ninja skills on people? Real people?!” Darcy could barely contain her excitement, over the last two months her life had fallen into a routine, Eat, Sleep, Train, Tease Clint and Repeat – which was all fine and well, but she was longing for some real action, the kind of action that came from a deep cover op in the bowels of (That’s Classified).

 

“Well, uh, actually, _we_ don’t have anything,” Clint’s expression was sheepish and guilty and he brought an arm up to scratch the back of his neck, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable.

“They really need me on this op, and they just think you aren’t ready – I know! I know, I tried to tell them how well you’re doing, but I couldn’t get you cleared for field work. I’m so sorry, Darce, you have to stay here,”

 

She felt like she’d been punched in the gut, she saw the way the other Agents looked at her, they didn’t think she deserved to be there. To them she was the weak link, the charity case, she felt sure she would be buried in paper work the second he left.

“Oh, okay,” she replied in a tiny voice, she gave him a weak smile and tried her hardest for bravado. “Who needs you anyway? I kick ass all on my own,” her attempt at humour fell flat as he gazed impassively at her, his expression cutting straight through her crap.

“I’ve arranged for you to have a new S.O, so when I get back you better still be in tip-top shape, and I expect you to be hitting dead centre every time with the throwing knives,” They both knew the use of ‘when’ was wrong, it was ‘if’. With their line of work it was _always_ ‘if’.

 

Feeling like she might not get another chance, Darcy threw herself at him, curling her frame into his she clutched onto the back of his shirt.

“Don’t you dare die out there, HawkGuy, or when _I_ die I’m going to track you down and haunt you so bad,” She could feel his responding chuckle through her entire body as he relaxed into the embrace.

“I’ll try my best,” As he was drawing away, he shoved a piece of paper into her hand, giving her a meaningful look he took a step back and gave her a playful salute.

“Til next time Junior,”

 

As he walked away she glanced down at the note and saw that he had written down an address with a small note.

 

_If you ever need a safe place, there’s no-where quite like the country._

\------------

_Flathead Nation Forest, Montana – 6 Weeks After the Fall of SHIELD_

“Shoot the gun, doll,”

“No,”

“Doll, just- just do it. Just shoot the gun, prove to me you can shoot the gun and we can go,”

“Nope,”

“Darcy! Just shoot the damn gun!”

 

After travelling for what felt like a lifetime, Bucky had decided that he needed _proof_ that Darcy was capable of protecting herself from the bad guys, should push come to shove. Needless to say, Darcy was hungry, she was tired, and she was a little scared – not that she would have ever told anybody that. But all in all, she was _not_ in the mood to be standing in a clearing in the middle of a snow covered forest, shooting at a bunch of cans in a line.

 

Now she could have probably shot the gun like he’d asked and they would have been on their way a long time ago, but the aforementioned lack of food and sleep, coupled with the pain in her throat and the ache that seemed to be _everywhere_ \- not to mention the whole ‘radio incident’ - had left her feeling decidedly uncooperative.

 

Despite her inability to talk, she felt she managed to communicate her point quite nicely when she disassembled the Glock he had shoved into her hands and sat in the snow; ignoring the fact that the parka she was wearing _really_ wasn’t cutting it and that the snow was causing a rapidly forming wet patch on her behind. She crossed her arms, raised her chin and stared impassively up at the incredibly scraggly, frustrated, _attractive_ man in front of her. What? So what if she thought he was hot, it was a _fact,_ this wasn’t Stockholm syndrome, it was being a straight female with eyes. Although, as he strode towards her and sat in an intimidating heap in front of her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body and hear his arm clicking through its gears, she couldn’t help but think she was kind of screwed.

\-----------

 

_Washington D.C – Three weeks after the fall of SHIELD_

It had been five months since Darcy had seen Clint, it had been four since she’s heard from him, and it had been three weeks since the Triskelion had fallen around her. Well, not literally, seeing as it was kind of her day off, and she didn’t realize anything was even wrong until she woke up at midday and turned on the news to see three heli-carriers lying broken and battered in the Potomac.

 

The man Clint had asked to be her SO turned out to be a lying liar who lied – he turned her into a coffee gopher, and completely stripped her of any time she’d been hoping to get in the gun range and the gym. He expected her to answer to his every beck and call, and she spent more time sitting at a desk than actually living. But she held on, she held on for hope that Clint would return and they would be able to pick up her training and she could actually help make a difference. Because that’s what she had realized in the past few months, she really did want to help people, and she really did want to be an Agent of SHIELD. But in the meantime there was this asshole, so she put up with it and she kept going.

 

In the end she was pretty sure he was Hydra, and the betrayal she felt took her by surprise – but the emotion overriding all of that was worry. Worry for Clint. Was his team filled with the good guys, or the bad guys? Was he OK? Was he even alive? Three weeks had passed and she hadn’t heard a peep from him, he hadn’t used any one of the dead drops they’d established, and she’d long since given up trying to get on to Captain Rodgers or the Black Widow through Jane.

 

That was – until the day they had gotten on to her. She’d returned to her dismally small apartment after yet another day of unsuccessful job hunting (Thanks SHIELD), to find three strangers sitting on her couch. She most definitely did not scream and hit Captain _America_ with a lamp. Nope, not at all.

 

“Is this – are you guys here about Clint? Is he okay? Where is he?!” Darcy demanded, stepping over what remained of her (favourite) Avengers Limited Edition Lamp (Lamp NOT Nightlight, thank you very much). The Captain looked uncomfortable as he glanced back at a woman with dark, short, hair and sunglasses. Darcy was pretty sure the Black Widow could come up with a better disguise, but she didn’t really care to dwell at the moment.

 

“Actually,” he began, turning a sad smile on her, “I was kind of hoping you could help us,”

“Sure,” she replied evenly, “Tell me where Clint is and I’ll do whatever you want,” she tried to ignore the fact that she was bargaining with Captain Freaking America while the Black Widow and the Falcon watched on.

 

The Black Widow (‘Call me Natasha’ - Sure, like _that_ will ever happen) stepped forwards, cocking her head to the side and regarding her in the same impassive stare she’d seen Clint give so many times.

“What is your interest in Barton?” She asked levelly, but Darcy got the impression the wrong answer could result in broken bones, possibly necks.

 

But of course, this didn’t stop her indignant rant from taking place before she gave it a second thought.

“What is my interest? What is my _interest?!_ My interest is I haven’t seen or heard from my friend in months, and I’m _worried_ about him,” She seethed. Honestly, What is her interest? What kind of a question is that anyway?

 

“I, uh, I saw him, right before the fall of the Triskelion,” the Captain offered up, “SHIELD sent him out to bring me in, and when he got close enough, he told me that there was a tracker in my suit and that they were watching him, so I should knock him out, ditch the suit and run,” he paused for a moment to gauge her face, which had suddenly gone pale as she realised what they would have done to him, had they found out he had taken Rodgers’ side.

 

“That was the last anyone heard of him, not for lack of trying,” finished the Widow, before she took a step up in Darcy’s personal space.

“We don’t know if it’s because he went underground or-,”

“If Hydra killed him,” she finished quietly, vaguely remembering her joking threat to him the day he left, she sagged back against the wall from a moment before straightening and turning her angry gaze on Steve.

“As long as what you need help in is about tearing those fuckers to the ground, I’m in,”

His smile was fleeting but genuine as he reached a hand out for her to shake.

“Fuckin’ A,”

 

\-----------

 

_Flathead Nation Forest, Montana – 6 Weeks After the Fall of SHIELD_

If anyone where to come across them, it would have been a very unusual scene indeed, a girl with a shock of wild brown hair, ugly, discoloured bruising on her throat and a fierce expression on her face; and a man with a metal arm and a steady gaze, trained in on her with an intensity that would have sent most running for the hills.

 

Of course, the odds of anybody accidently happening upon them in such a remote area were incredibly slim, which is why both of them tensed visibly when the snapping of twigs reached their ears. Before either of them could so much as glance around, a small metal device was launched through the air and attached itself to James’ arm, causing him to give out an anguished cry that Darcy felt sure she would hear every time she closed her eyes for many nights to come.

 

She gave herself a split second of panic before she launched into action, grabbing the alarmingly still man under the arm pits she ignored the tiny noises of pain he was whimpering before steeling her resolve and dragging him further into the trees for better cover. When they reached a coarse patch of shrubbery she finally looked around, noticing the forms of several approaching men as she did so, they were wearing black ops tactical gear and carrying guns. Like, really really big guns, like overcompensating-ly big guns. Darcy had to wonder if there was a reason for that. She figured it made sense that a bunch of losers with tiny penises would work for Hydra. Damn cowards.

 

She continued to stare at their approach, and was racking her brain for ideas to get the hell out of this alive when she felt a hand on her ankle and looked down to see James staring up at her with an oddly earnest expression on his face. With what appeared to be great difficulty he opened his mouth and uttered one pained word that chilled her to the bone.

“Run,”

 

Shaking her head fiercely she gently picked up his now limp robotic arm and began studying the bug that had locked itself onto the metal, after apparaising the nature of the EMP she grabbed the knife she knew James kept in his right boot and gave one quick stab in its weak spot and gave a feral grin of satisfaction when it smoked slightly before falling uselessly to the ground. The lines around James’ eyes lessened slightly at its absence, but she soon realized he was pretty much out for the count.

 

Realizing it was up to her to return the favour and save his life for once, she shut her eyes and allowed herself one final, cleansing breath, before she grabbed the Glock from his thigh holster and turning, rising from her crouch as she did so. _Right, just imagine they’re targets, Darcy._ She thought to herself as she raised the firearm and let off the first shot.

 

Pop. Grunt. Fall.

 

Pop. Grunt. Fall.

 

Pop. Grunt. Fall.

 

Pop. Grunt. Fall.

 

Pop. Grunt. Fall.

 

Pop. Grunt. Fall.

 

She tried to not think of the six bodies with holes in their heads and she flipped the safety back on and shoved the now half empty gun in the waistband of her jeans and helped James into a standing position. Together, they limped back to the truck and she shoved him into the passenger seat. She almost lost it when she looked down and caught sight of the blood marring her shoes from one of the bodies she hadn’t managed to side step quite enough, but she forced herself to continue around to the driver’s seat and start up the truck. When the engine was running smoothly and she was about to shift into gear, she felt a warm, calloused hand covering hers, turning her eyes to James’ quizzical stare she gave him a weak smile.

 

“What? I said I didn’t want to practice, I never said I wasn't an exceptional fucking shot,”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally updated ! 
> 
> I hope you guys all enjoyed that and thank you all so much for the Kudos' (I still can't decide if I want to call it Kudos' or Kudi, Kudi sounds better) and the comments, please keep them coming !
> 
> Interesting note, The scene with Cap and Hawkeye was actually supposed to be a cameo in CA:TWS, but Jeremy Renner was unavailable due to other commitments :( 
> 
> ANYWAY ! Keep the comments and Kudos coming, and have a fab Christmas! 
> 
> Next Time: Bucky and Darcy finally arrive at her Safe Place, Bucky is a mother hen, and Darcy is having none of his shit - also, pancakes are an always food.


	4. There is More Purple In This Farmhouse Than a Gay Pride Parade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Darcy remembered her time with Clint during a nice long car ride, Darcy and Bucky argue like children over the radio, and Darcy is a fucking excellent shot - who knew?!

The duo only made it a grand total of three miles before Darcy screeched to a halt and threw herself on the ground outside the truck, her throat screamed in protest as she dry heaved into the snow. The sickening sound of bodies hitting the ground was all she could hear and the red mist that seemed to erupt from their heads as she’d hit them were all she could see. She wondered why SHIELD, despite all their classes, never had one that told you that when you took a life you felt nothing, but afterwards, afterwards you couldn’t help but wonder if they’d had children, wives, mothers, fathers, or people who’d cared about them. She couldn’t help but wonder if despite the fact that they had been bad men, they had managed to be good fathers, or lovers, or children.

 

She was brought out of her reprieve by the sound of her voice being called and the feeling of a hand on her neck. Lashing out wildly she threw herself back against the truck, her eyes were wide and filled with the tears she hadn’t allowed herself to shed as she breathed heavily and stared at the man before her. It took her a moment, but eventually her brain supplied the information she needed. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Friend. Threat level: low. He was speaking to her in quiet tones as he slowly advanced on her, reaching her side just as she flung herself into his arms and curled herself into his side for a single minute before detaching herself, straightening her shoulders and giving him a weak smile.

 

His heart broke as he watched her walk back to the truck and pause for a moment longer, as if she was steeling herself, before opening the door and turning the key once more. With a heavy sigh he followed, supporting his prosthetic arm with his human one and wincing at the sight of her vivid red footprints in the snow. The first time he’d been forced to take a life – no. He wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on his past, so often he found himself consumed by memories; Unable to escape the pain they brought. He wouldn’t allow Darcy to see him like that, not when she needed him to be strong.

 

\----------

 

Six hours later James kept a vigilant watch all around the rusty truck as Darcy pulled down a long dusty road. The sun was beginning to set as they travelled around a final corner and came upon an old white farmhouse with a wrap-around porch. She glanced at the colours of the sunset quickly before averting her eyes back to the house and realising it was just as unused as she had feared – not that she had truly expected to find Clint lazing around with a few beers and a dog. Swallowing she disappointment she grabbed for the notepad sitting in the middle of the bench seat and scribbling three words down before shoving them at the modern day Clyde to her Bonnie and heading off into the house. As he read what she’d written he allowed himself a small smile at her turned back before grabbing his duffel bag and following her, bringing the notepad with him.

 

_Shower. Food. Bed._

 

Just before she stepped over the threshold he grabbed her arm and motioned for her to wait while he checked the premises, rolling her eyes at his theatrics and giving his limp arm a pointed look she barged on past him and immediately stopped in her tracks. The decor was just so _Clint_. She had to stop herself from bursting into tears once more as she looked around the living room that was obviously her best friends haven. The huge fireplace was surrounded by comfortable recliners - the kind with cup holders and footrests - the predominate theme of the room was earthy colors, broken up, of course, by the occasional purple object.

 

“-rcy, Doll, you with me?” it was then that she realized James had been talking to her the whole time. She tried to keep her confused blinking to a minimum as she stared uncomprehensively at him.

“I said,” he began “The house is clear, what did you want to do first?”. More blinking, more staring, more dull expressions.

“Right, shower then,” He eventually voiced, the strain in his voice at having a decision put upon him would have been obvious to the average observer, but in her state, Darcy was in no position to do anything but blindly follow as he led her to the bathroom he had obviously scouted out while she took in the decor.

 

Had she been coherent in the slightest, she would have been embarrassed by the way James turned on the shower for her before giving her clothes an uncertain look and opting to lead her in fully clothed. As if she was in a trance, she distantly noted the way the white tiles were tinged pink momentarily as the blood washed off her still laced up boots, but was saved from having to stare when she was drawn into his chest and held there until she could manage to think for herself again. _Holy muscles Batman_ she thought dimly before she herself began to shake, the emotions she’d  held off for the past day suddenly came crashing back as the haze receded and she found herself sobbing into the arms of the World War II soldier turned Russian Spysassin. Huh, her life.

 

Eventually, the wracking sobs turned to crying, which then turned to pitiful sniffles and led the segway to a horrible headache, an achy throat that made her want to die, and a need to drink all the water in the state. Detaching herself from the arm he had chosen to wrap around her she looked up at the man who had just spent the last half hour holding her in the shower - and what the hell was with her life - and gave him a watery smile. He took the hint and immediately stepped out of the stall and into the hallway, closing the door to give her the privacy she needed to shower properly.

 

When she emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but her questionable bunny underwear and Bucky’s henley she absolutely did not let out a little scream at the man who was hovering right outside the doorway. Nope. Not at all. Not even a little. Ignoring his - admittedly fuzzy due to her lack of glasses - form, she decided to go for dignified (ha) and duck under his arm before making her way to what had to be the bedroom. The only sleep she’d had recently was fainting sleep, and she felt if she started counting that as _actual_ sleep, things would only go downhill from there.

 

When she opened the door and was greeted with neatly stacked linens and towels - and _seriously_ Hawkass, does _everything_ have to be purple? - she let out a little grunt of frustration and pivoted quickly, running smack into a slightly damp chest. That was when she realised while she was having a nice calming shower, Bucky was standing in the hallway, standing guard, soaking wet and probably miserable, and of course felt like a huge boob. A huge horrible, inconsiderate, mean boob. So of course her reaction was to turn back around, grab all the towels she could find and immediately begin wrapping him in them.

 

Darcy genuinely feared his eyes might pop out of his head for a second, or that he might have a horrible PTSD reaction to being attacked with fluffy towels and oh my Thor if Clint was alive out there she was going to tease the ever loving shit out of him for owning so many ridiculously opulent towels.

“Darce- Darcy, Doll,” he eventually sputtered, his human hand coming up to grab both of hers as she attempted to pat him dry. His metal arm hung loosely at his side and oh boy another thing she would have to deal with before she could sleep because the people that ‘handled’ the Winter Soldier might be willing to let him sit about wet and cold and sore like an abused dog but Darcy Lewis sure as hell wasn’t.

 

“I think it’s time for bed, you’ve got the crazy eyes happening,” he joked weakly before he tried to pull her down the hall to the open door that she could see a huge, and of course, very purple bed through. Shaking her head vehemently she pointed at his arm viciously before pantomiming getting glasses and some tools so he would understand what she needed to make him comfortable. He seemed genuinely surprised by her reaction and shook his head again.

“‘M fine, but you should sleep,” he insisted, but was once again stopped by her stubborn head shake and insistent pointing.

 

When it appeared he wasn’t going to get the message she decided she needed to up her game. All hail painful and stupid ideas.

“Safe,” she rasped out, gesturing wildly at the both of them before staring into his uncomprehending eyes.

“Yes,” he replied slowly, “You’re safe now,” he seemed confused, and she was sure she didn’t imagine the flash of fear in his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure he had said the right thing and was afraid of what her reaction might be.

 

Again, she shook her head before pointing at him, going so far as to poke his fluffy towel covered chest.

“Safe,” she repeated, “Be com-fy, safe,” on the last word she dissolved into painful coughs that seemed to spur him into realisation.

“Darcy, I am fine,” he articulated carefully, “Now, let me make sure you are fine,”

But still, she refused to move, realising she was fighting a losing battle, she decided to pick her fights.

“Dry,” she said, glaring at him as if she was challenging him to disagree. She knew she had won when his lips tips upwards for a millisecond before he was huffing playfully, as if she was doing him a great disservice.

“Fine, think I can manage dry,” he drawled in an accent that she couldn’t quite place but made her want to do bad things to the man that had saved - (kidnapped?) Oh hell, who cares anymore - her.

“Oh,” he perked up as if he suddenly remembered something, “Grabbed your bag from starbucks earlier, are your glasses in there?”

Bucky maintains that had he wanted to, he could have dodged the punch Darcy threw at his shoulder in her disbelief.

The Winter Soldier acknowledges the girl with the brown hair and the smile had gotten under the shmucks skin.

  
  


\-------------------------

 

_Darcy was running through the woods - it was cold - so cold. She could hear the heavy noises of boots following her and she wished she had something, anything to cover up with. She was shoeless and still wearing nothing but those stupid goddamn bunny underwear and the shirt that smelled like gunpowder and man._

_Up ahead she could see a man, she didn’t know how she knew it, but he was safe, she could tell. If she could get to him, it would all be alright, he would keep her safe. When she risked a glance over her shoulder to see who was following her she ran straight into a solid chest._

_“Clint!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and breathing in his scent before grabbing his hand and tugging._

_“C’mon dude, we gotta go! Like yesterday, they’re coming!” she whisper screamed, tugging desperately as the noises got louder._

_“I know,” he replied, voice devoid of any emotion, “I called them,”_

_She barely got out a noise of surprise when the first man reached her, pulling her hand from his she watched desperately as he faded away, shaking his head and her and mouthing the words ‘your fault, too late’ at her._

_“Let go of me!” she screamed at the faceless man behind her before turning and crying out in disbelief._

_“No - no, no no no, Daddy, no!” she cried out as her father pulled out a gun from his holster._

_“Your fault,” he said, “You were too late,” and he brought the gun up quickly, shooting someone over her shoulder._

_“NO!” she wailed as she watched the man that had raised her, who had taught her to talk, taught her to break someone’s nose in just the right way, how to rebuild a cars engine from scratch, fall to the ground in a heap. She turned to ask why, but he was already fading away. ‘Your fault,’ he mouthed, ‘Too late,’_

_Next was Jane, then came Erik, Ian, Thor, her childhood best friend, she watched them all kill and be killed, until she was a broken mess on the floor, and they were all gone. They had all left her in the woods to die._

_That was when she remembered the man, the feeling of safely, getting to her feet she ran to him, she wanted to ask so much, why hadn’t he helped her, why were they doing this, why did they all leave her, but she was stopped dead when she saw who it was._

_“Your fault,” he breathed out. A choked sob escaped her lips as he transformed into somebody else and she found herself face to face with a Glock being held aloft by her mother._

_“Too late,” she said sadly, and then she pulled the trigger._

 

\-------------------------

 

“No!” Darcy yelled as she sat bolt upright in the bed, her hands fisted in the sheets that were damp from her sweat. It seemed odd, she thought in a somewhat detached manner, that she could have been sweating so much in real life when she could remember with clarity the freezing cold she had felt only moments before. In a flash, James was by her side, handing her a glass of water and not reacting when she shied violently away before registering the far too short sweatpants and the bare chest that belonged to the hobo looking dude at the edge of her bed.

 

Shirts too small, her brain supplied, they kept ripping when he pulled them over his head. In snippets, reality came back to her as she grounded herself by remembering the giggling fit she’d had at the expression on his face every time the sound of shredding cotton filled the air. She remembered to feeling of her hands on his chest as she stopped him from putting his wet dirty undershirt back in to hide the arm and the scars. _No, Beautiful._ She remembered him settling into the plush armchair by the window, despite her protests, that were admittedly, weak at best in her state of emotional and physical exhaustion. Finally, she remembered him humming softly as she fell asleep, the tune lulling her into a sense of security in a way the weapons sitting on the table next to him hadn’t.

 

Eventually, she tore her eyes from the spot on the sheets that she had been staring at and forced her hands to unclench, accepting the glass as she did so. If the glass was shaking slightly as she rose it to her lips, nobody mentioned it.

“You okay?” She shook her head mutely.

“Wanna talk?” That earnt him a sullen stare as he chuckled lowly.

“Sorry, bad joke,” he admitted, raising his good hand in a surrender gesture.

“I remember when Stevie used ‘ta-” suddenly he cut off, looking confused and a little afraid at the words that had just left his mouth.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he admitted, staring somewhere over her shoulder.

Deciding she was too exhausted to deal with anything else that night (Day? Who even knows at this point) she set her glass on the bedside table and tugged him fully into the bed before settling back into the covers.

“Darcy, no! I could hurt -” his protests were cut off by her slapping her hand over his mouth and shaking her head.

“Don’t,” she rasped out before taking a deep breath and trying again.

“Leave, me - cold, alone,” understanding lit up his eyes before he slowly nodded and positioned himself so his arm wouldn’t trouble him.

“Okay Doll,” he murmured, “Won’t leave you alone,” but his reply fell on deaf ears, because she was already asleep and snoring a little in a way he most certainly did not find endearing.

 

\----------

 

The next time Darcy awoke she found herself being held to a broad warm chest by a bare arm, despite the heat the man next to her was radiating she didn’t feel suffocated, only safe - which was odd, because she had never been comfortably able to sleep like this with a man in the past; either it was too hot, or his arm was hurting her, or he was sleeping on her hair. It was alarming that they fit so well together, after all, he was still _technically_ her kidnapper.

 

Well aware that when Clint was sleeping it was dangerous to startle him and sensing that James was the same, she slowly began rubbing the arm banded around her waist. She could feel the moment he came into consciousness, his whole body tensed as he seemed to be taking stock of the situation before he smoothly rolled out of the bed and onto his feet. Turning to look at him she wasn’t entirely surprised to see the blank look on his face that he seemed to return to whenever he was feeling uncomfortable.

“Breakfast,” he grunted out before turning stiffly and marching from the room. Rolling onto her back Darcy looked up at the ceiling for a second before letting out a huffing sigh and standing herself. _Men._

 

When she got to the bottom of the landing she found him holding up a can of baked beans and staring dubiously at it. She had to hold back laughter as he experimentally tapped it against the counter before holding it up to his eye and giving it a begrudging glare.

“Baked beans: 1, The Winter Soldier: 0,” she rasped out, giving him a cheeky grin when his glare turned to her. Ducking under his arm she opened what appeared to be a utensil drawer and tossed him a can opener before procuring some bowls and turning on the microwave. Right on cue, her stomach growled loudly and she shot a baleful look at the canned goods. _Of course_ she thought _Stupid practical Clint, couldn’t he have left some freaking pancake mix? Maybe a little bit of bacon?_ Despite the internal complaints she devoured all the food James placed down in front of her, and he most certainly did not find it endearing. At all.

 

After breakfast, Darcy gave herself a tour of Clint’s little slice of heaven, he had a barn out the back that was set up as an arching range, a tool shed that she raided in order to work on James’ arm, and a John Deere tractor that looked like it had seen better days. When she finally made her way back to the kitchen with her ever present guard/kidnapper/tentative snuggle buddy trailing behind her she turned a manic grin on him.

“Shiny, Pretty, Fix now,” she said, making grabbing hands at his arm. Ignoring the raised eyebrow he sent her she began organising all the tools on the table in a very particular fashion before turning to give Bucky an imperious smile and making complicated hand motions at the seat.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’” he grumbled good naturedly before throwing himself down in the chair and giving her his arm with a grimace.

 

As she began working on his arm she glanced up at his face cautiously.

“Do _you_ want to talk about it?” she asked hesitantly as she began unscrewing a panel on the underside of his bicep. “Might take your mind off,” she nodded at the myriad of wires and mechanisms that had been unearthed. The silence that followed her question was so long that she began to wonder if he’d even noticed she had spoken, but eventually he spoke, so hesitantly that her heart broke just a little, and her rage at Hydra was once again awakened.

 

“I- I knew him, the man on the bridge,” he began, his fingers twitched in distress and he seemed to force himself to remain calm.

“I hurt - he was - he was my mission, but he wouldn’t fight back, he kept saying - the stubborn little _jerk_ \- he kept sayin’ that he was with me, ‘til the end of the line. It, took a while, but when he fell, I knew I had to save him, just as sure as I knew my arm was metal, and as I knew there was a time when  was more than Hydra’s pet assassin. After I left him on the bank of the river I found a safe house, raided the cash and the weapons stock, n started trying to figure out who I was,”

 

When he fell silent Darcy glanced up and gave him an encouraging smile, continuing to work her way down the arm, cleaning and looking for possible causes of the minor malfunctions he’d mentioned. For a while they sat in silence, her concentrating on the task at hand, and him alternating between staring out the window and staring at the curl that had come free from her haphazard ponytail. Without thinking he reached out a hand, tucking it behind her ear - only to jerk it back quickly as he realized what he’d done. Glancing up once more and seeing the pure unadulterated panic on his face she gave him a reassuring smile, “Thanks, was annoying the fuck outta me,” she murmured before turning back to the task at hand.

 

Hours later the comfortable silence was broken by the screech of an engineer that had found the source of all their problems, followed by the coughing of a girl who tried to overdo on the whole making noises thing so soon after being almost choked to death.

“Darce? Doll? Are you - what’s? Ok! Ok! I’m not moving!” Bucky raised his flesh and blood hand in surrender as she used one hand to quell her coughing while making an admirable attempt to stop him from moving with the other. He tried his hardest to follow her hand gestures as she gesticulated wildly at the crease in his elbow.

 

“You… found the problem?” he guessed and was immediately rewarded by a blinding smile and frantic nodding. As soon as she’d taken a long drink from her ‘Archers Do It Better’ mug she went right back to work, fiddling around with various tools before stepping back and making ‘Ta-Da’ motions with her hands. Hesitantly he raised his hand off the table and gave her one last glance before he began flexing the fingers, and then the wrist, and eventually swinging the whole arm around a few times. When he’d finished he gave her a startled look.

“You fixed it,” he said, surprise lacing his tone. Giddy with the victory she flung herself at him with a laugh and wrapped her arms around his middle. When he tensed up completely and neglected to move in the slightest she pulled back slightly and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re supposed to put your arms around me too - thats what makes it a victory hug and not weird unwanted contact - oh, wait, shit. It’s, that’s what - okay, I’m sorry, in fact I’m just going to-” Two arms wrapping firmly around her middle and pulling her in close cut off her awkward backpedaling - thank god -  and as she relaxed into the embrace James thought he hadn’t felt safer in years.

 

\----------

 

There are very few things that Darcy Lewis knows for sure, she knows pancakes are an always food, she knows that Clint Barton is a little shit, but he’s her little shit, she knows that iPod’s are sacred, and she knows that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is a stubborn little asshole. The latter was the reason she was about to pull out her own hair in frustration at the monosyllabic responses he was giving her.

 

“Listen I’m just saying -”

“No,”

“But if you’d just hear me out-”

“Niet,”

“I really think he could help you-”

“Nein,”

“Tony is actually a really good-”

“Ne,”

“You can’t just-”

“Non,”

 

Letting out a strangled scream she flopped herself face down on the couch that she had come to claim in the last week. After she had fixed Bucky’s arm she had assumed they would move on, kick ass, take names, maybe eat a little food that wasn’t boiled or microwaved and born in a tin. But no, oh no, the man out of time seemed perfectly content wandering around the farmhouse and listening to Clint’s ridiculous rock records and learning to play his stupid guitar. To make matters worse, there was no wifi, no phone service, and no television. Darcy had already taken apart and put back together the John Deere, the microwave, the motor on the fridge and the entire engine of the truck they stole. Now, she was ready to take her own eyeballs out of her head and throw them at the man glaring stoically back at her.

“Asshole,” she grumbled quietly into the pillow cushions, smooshing her face even further into the crease and letting out a loud groan of frustration, when she decided that felt good, she let out another, and another. After a few moments of making angry growly noises she realised something was touching her head, extracting herself from her position she glared incredulously at the man before her.

“Were you seriously just _patting my head like a dog?!_ ” she demanded shrilly. Flinching slightly at her tone of voice his face did the thing that made her realize she had fucked up.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no you don’t there buddy,” she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the couch before throwing her legs over his lap.

“You do not get to run away before we have had a discussion dammit!”

 

He avoided her gaze for a few minutes longer before sighing and looking back at her.

“I remember,” he said simply, ignoring the startled expression on her face and the way she suddenly sat up so she was practically sitting on him. Absentmindedly he let the arm she had shaken loose from its perch on the back of the couch settle on her back as she fired a myriad of questions at him.

 

“You _remember_? Why didn’t you tell me? What do you remember? Do you know who Steve is now? What was your favourite colour as a child? Is that why you boil all of your meals? Do you-” she was shut up as he stood abruptly and dumped her back on the couch.

“Everything!” he snapped, “I remember _everything_ , OK? I remember every single person Hydra had me kill, I remember torturing innocent men and women, I remember killing Tony Starks fucking parents!” His hands came up to grip his hair as he sunk down to his knees. “I remember everything,” he repeated, his voice broken and barely above a whisper.

 

“Oh, James,” Darcy breathed out, “I’m so sorry, and I’m sorry that sorry is such a shitty platitude. I’m sorry that they made you do those things, and I’m sorry for what they took from you. But believe me when I say that if you want to I will help you _rip them to shreds_ , if you want to live a normal life I will help you make that happen, I will do literally anything to help you. We’re a team now,”

 

“A … team?” he asked, his brow scrunched up in confusion in a way that made Darcy want to set fire to every Hydra member she came across.

“Course,” she replied, nudging his arm with her shoulder, “I mean, you have seen my bunny underwear,” her voice held a teasing lilt to it that was squashed flat when he wrenched himself away and stared at her blankly.

 

“We’re not a team,” he said firmly.

“Uh yeah dude, we are, I hate to break it to you but you’re stuck with me,” she hated the way her voice wobbled a little at the way he seemed to glare right through her.

“No. We’re not. What could you possibly do for me that I couldn’t do for myself? I don’t need you, in fact, you should just go, go home, wherever the hell that is,” When he finished speaking he turned and started towards the door, only to have his steps halted by the indignant screeching coming from the woman behind him.

“ _Excuse_ you? First of all - I don’t have a home to go back to - you know that. And Second of all - What could I _possibly_ do for you?! Need I remind you that not even a week ago I _saved_ _your life_?! Killed _six_ men?! Did you know that I’d never even seriously hurt a human being before in my life before that? Oh and what else did I do for you? Oh _yeah_ ! Fixed your arm that you need to _survive_ so don’t you dare pull that _macho man bullshit_ with me because I am _not having it_!”

 

Her breathing was laboured as she stared incredulously at the shaking shoulders of the man in front of her.

“Are you… are you _laughing_ at me right now?!” She demanded. Fucking spysassins and their weird mood swings. Turning slowly he gave her a half-amused half-cautious look, that is dissected carefully could almost be called a smile.

“So, a team, huh?” he asked, opening his arms quickly when he saw the signs that she was about to pounce,”

“I _hate_ you,” she mumbled lowly from her place in his arms as he chuckled quietly. Whatever he was about to say in response was cut off by the ominous sound of the front door lock turning, they both froze in place and turned to look as it swung open to reveal the person they both last expected to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god so I am so sorry about how long it's been since I last uploaded, I am such a lazy shit ! I'm afraid I went backpacking and then sort of lost story motivation, but I think I have forced myself back into it today, so hopefully the updates will be coming more regularly now ! Thanks so much for being patient, and I hope you enjoyed that !
> 
> Next Time: Bucky is an overprotective shit, Darcy is having none of it. (Thats it, thats the story)
> 
> Also - this is suuupa unbeta'd so if you see any mistakes give me a holla, also if you're interested in being my beta/yelly motivator shoot a comment through with your email and I'll get onto you! TA !


	5. Is That a Glock in Your Pocket or are You Just Happy to See Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She updates again! It's a miracle !
> 
> Previously: Bucky is a big fat feelings avoider, Darcy fixes lots of stuff, they eat so much canned food(Too much canned food) and I'm an asshole who ended the chapter on a cliffhanger (That wasn't actually all that cliffhangery in the grand scheme of cliffhangers to come)

The silence in the room was almost deafening, Darcy clutched Bucky’s arms as he maneuvered her behind him and immediately produced a knife from somewhere (don’t ask him where, just … don’t) and the door swung open to reveal none other than Natasha Romanov. A moment of shocked silence followed her appearance before both super spies swung into action, Natasha producing two terrifyingly sleek looking glocks and pointing them at Bucky’s head and heart, and Bucky flicking the knife to his metal hand and grabbing a gun from thin air. _How the fuck does he even do that?!_ Darcy thought idly before she realized Natasha was looking at her and speaking.

“Darcy, I need you to back away very slowly,”

 

Darcy didn't know what the appropriate reaction to that should have been, but judging by the look the other woman was shooting at her it probably wasn't to laugh and step out from behind his broad shoulders and smile sunnily at the redhead.

“Why would I-” she began, only to be interrupted abruptly.

“What happened to your neck?” Natasha demanded, her eyes going straight to the yellowing marks marring her pale throat. Whatever answer she was concocting was immediately cut off when a figure joined the spy in the doorway with his gun drawn.

“Nat what’s going -” he began before he too, was interrupted.

“Clint?!”

“Darcy?”

“You’re alive!” she cried, throwing herself at the older man, only to draw back and punch him squarely in the shoulder.

“You asshole! You’re alive!” she accused, giving him her best pissed off look before she belatedly realized he too had his gun trained in on Bucky, whose face was firmly in Winter Soldier mode.

 

“Oh no - no, no, no. Nope. You stop that right now!” she demanded, turning her back on the other two and standing directly in front of him. He, of course, ignored her and continued staring at the two threats in the room, he now had a gun in each hand and Darcy stopped even trying to figure out where they came from.

“Darcy, move outta the way,” Clint’s voice came from behind her.

“Yeah, doll, step aside,” ordered James, and she snorted derisively.

“Yeah, no. Nay. I shan’t. I won’t,” she replied, still staring intently at Bucky’s face.

“Darcy,” Natasha spoke next, her voice dripping with venom. Darcy whirled abruptly, making sure to stay between Bucky and the guns and she fixed a glare on the other woman.

“Why?!” she demanded shrilly, “So you can shoot him?! I don’t think so!”

“You don’t know what he is, what he’s capable of,” Natasha said, giving her a patronizing smile.

 

So, of course, Darcy snorted in her face and rolled her eyes. Of course.

“Oh?” She asked casually, raising an eyebrow, “I think I know enough; I know that he’s a good person, not only despite of what Hydra did to him, but also because he managed to fight it off when it mattered most. I also know that he’s saved my life more than once. I know that he’s killed to keep me safe. And I know that I’ve returned the favour. I know that if what he’s done makes him a monster than you’re one too. And so am I,” When she’d finished speaking she looked imploringly at Clint.

“I trust him, do you trust me?” she asked, looking at his face searchingly. After another moment of tense silence he slowly began to lower his gun and holster it.

“Stand down, Nat,” he commanded, still not taking his eyes off of James, after another long moment she sighed and looked meaningfully at Bucky’s guns before lowering hers.

 

Turning around Darcy placed one hand on Bucky’s chest, staring until he glanced down at her briefly before sighing loudly and dropping his and placing them on the table, carefully within reach.

“There, don’t we all feel much better now?” She asked, giving Bucky a quick wink before turning back to face the others again, well aware of the wall of muscle standing so close behind her she could feel the heat radiating onto her back.

“No,”

“Nope,”

“Hell no, I think you should tell me what the _fuck_ has been going on since I left,”

“Oh Clint, you have no idea,” Darcy replied with a small laugh, “C’mon, for this we’ll need Tea, or booze, possibly both,”

“Probably both,” Bucky rumbled, waiting for the other two to move into the kitchen before he gently nudged Darcy along behind them.

 

\------------

 

“You got made … in a Starbucks, and then you _let them almost beat you to death?!_ ” Darcy winced at his tone of voice and James moved closer to her side, glowering at Clint silently.

“Well I mean, there were three of them and one of me and I kindofhaven’thadmuchtimetotrainlately,” she replied sheepishly, cringing at the thunderous look on his face.

“What do you _mean_ you haven’t had much time to train lately?! You were supposed to be on a fast track to field work! You were good at it! What happened?!” he demanded, banging his fist on the table to emphasize his point. Straightening her shoulders she stood up and leveled a glare of her own at him.

“You left!” She screamed, “You left and the guy you handed me over to was Hydra and I spent so much of my time running his fucking errands and fending off his creepy fucking sexual advances that I barely had five hours of sleep a night!” the room fell dead silent for a moment and Clint settled more solidly into his stool, letting out a long whoosh of breath and staring at the ceiling.

 

“Ok, Alright, I’m sorry I yelled. Please continue,” he finally said, after appearing to count to ten mentally.

“Okay, so I was in the alley, and I thought I was going to die right, and then I hear like THUMP THUMP THUMP, and when I look up Bucky is standing there all like ‘Why are you on the floor man?’ and then I threw up on his shoes and passed out - Hey, did I ever apologize to you for that? ‘Cause I’m sorry. God, what a terrible first impression. Anyway! Back on track, we were in this motel, then Hydra came along all ‘Bow Down ! Hail Hydra! We’re the biggest assholes in the universe!’ and Bucky took care of them, and then I hotwired a car because _somebody_ couldn’t decide which one he wanted,” a pointed stare was directed to the man at her side at that, before she continued with her (frankly awesome) recount of her past week and a half. “Anyway, after that we started driving here and this guy thought it would be a good idea to drive into a forest and _demand_ I ‘learn’ to shoot a gun,”

At this, Clint winced sympathetically, “How’d that work out for him? he asked, a wry grin on his face.

“It didn’t,” she said simply before picking up seamlessly, “Then halfway through my absolutely justified temper tantrum, Hydra showed up again and pulled their Black Ops bit and shot Bucky’s arm with and EMP and then- we, Um, then -” Bucky took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze under the kitchen counter, never taking his stoic gaze off of the two agents sitting across from them.

“Uh - we got away, and then we came here, I fixed Bucky’s arm, and we were steadily making our way through your canned food collection before you busted in here like Gangbusters,”

 

When she finally finished, Clint gaped at her like a fish, Natasha raised one perfectly maintained eyebrow, and Bucky squeezed her hand again, but didn’t let it drop. Using his warmth to keep her grounded she turned to Clint, ready to rip him a new asshole for not calling, or hell, even sending a carrier pigeon.

“I know- I know, Natasha already yelled at me,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, well, just to be thorough,” she growled, “What in the actual _fuck_ was so important that you couldn’t make a single _fucking call_?!,”

“Coulson’s alive,” he stated simply, shrugging his shoulders and staring at his hands, “The bastards been  alive and working with a whole new team for the last two years and he didn’t even - he just,”

“Oh, Clint,” Darcy breathed, reaching across the table with her free hand she covered his.

“Want me to go tase him or something?” she asked, the fact that she was only half joking showed on her face clearly as she gave him a supportive smile.

“And on that note, the feels in this room are _too_ feelingy for me, I’ve gotta go make a call,” he said, sliding his chair out abruptly and making his way onto the deck.

 

\---------------

 

Darcy had always been the kind of girl to call an awkward silence a challenge, but this awkward silence was just, well, it was really fucking awkward. She had one hand sitting where it had dropped when Clint had fled outside and one in the grip of the man who had once been the KGB’s star assassin. Across the table sat one of the KGB’s other star assassins, who was alternating between glaring at James, appraising Darcy, and staring pointedly at both of their hidings hands.

“So…” Darcy began, but was cut off when Clint’s muffled yelling drifted through the door.

“I’m going to go… Yeah,” Natasha said, before hurrying out the door and taking her guns with her.

 

“Well, that went well,” joked Darcy, but immediately sobered when Bucky turned her in her seat and stared beseechingly into her eyes.

“He’s on the phone with Steve, and I can’t, Darce, I- I can’t, not yet,” he implored, gripping her hand tighter in his fear.

“Hey! hey, It’s alright, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, alright? I promise, I just need to grab a few things and we can -” Before she could finish that train of thought Bucky pulled two Go-Bags out of the kitchen cupboard and held one out to her before staring seriously into her eyes.

 

“You don’t have to come,” he told her imploringly, searching her face for any sign of reluctance.

“What? No, of course, I’m coming. I mean, you jump, I jump, Jack,” she replied, swinging the bag over her shoulder with an easy grin and motioning to the back door with her head.

“I- I did not understand that reference,”

“Oh young padawan, you have much to learn,”

 

\--------------

 

Clint Barton, was most definitely too old for this shit. Most _definitely_. All he really wanted was to come back to his farm with Natasha, drink a few beers, play his guitar and complain about his disaster of a life while doing absolutely nothing to rectify any  of the issues. But _now_ , oh god, now  he had to deal with his pseudo little sisters tendency to adopt sad looking strays, never mind that he himself, was one of those strays once.

 

Sighing dramatically at the disaster that had become his life he pulled his Stark phone out of his pocket (Thanks, Tony) and dialed Steve’s number. Of course, it was not Steve that answered, but the Man of Iron himself (Fuck off, Tony).

“Birdbrain! What can I do you for?!” More loud sighing was definitely needed. Seriously - too motherfucking old, for this motherfucking shit.

“Stark, I need to talk to Cap, that’s why I, ya know , called Cap,” Clint hoped the unsaid ‘Give Cap the phone before I come to New York and shoot you from one of your own vents’ was a given.

“Aww Barton! I know you miss me deep down, deep deep-”

“It’s Barnes, Stark. He’s in. My fucking. Kitchen. With Lewis. So get. _Me. STEVE_ ,”

 

There was a lot of confused noise coming from the other line as Clint settled back against the railing and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of the nose, only opening one eye as Natasha settled in next to him and giving her a glare for good measure.

“Barton,” Steve sounded breathless as he spoke into the phone, “Tony says you’ve found him. Is he - Is he Okay? I mean he’s obviously not-”

“He’s fine,” Clint replied curtly, “He’s in my kitchen, he’s been eating my food, and he is _looking_ at my protege like she is the _fucking sun_ and that is _not happening in my house dammit_ ,”

“Okay,” began Steve cautiously, “Do you think you could send me the address so that I can-”

“Already done. Please, _hurry_ ,” he stressed before hanging up and glaring at Natasha again.

“What?! She’s been through enough without this guy coming along and adding to it, I’m just trying to help her!” he snapped, turning to look out over his (now tainted) farm.

“Yes,” she replied dryly, “Because she seems like she really needs saving from him,”

At that, Clint turned and stormed back into the kitchen, when he found it empty he dropped his head into his hands.

“Aw, Darcy, No,”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading folks ! I was blown away by all the Kudos and comments I got from the last chapter, I'm feelin the love !!! Anyway, I promise to try to update at least once a week from now on, and just so I can decide how to end this, how does everybody feel about a sequel? (I would post the first chapter for that on the same day as the last chapter for this to make it nice n easy) 
> 
> ANYWAY
> 
> Next Time: Steve is an adorable nervous lil' bun, Tony is sarcastic sassy little shit, and Sam and Clint are just... 100% done with everyone's bull. Also, Darcy still hates rock music, Bucky is a kleptomaniac, and there is a hoe down throw down of epic and badass proportions


	6. If You Won't Come to Day of the Dad's, Day of the Dad's Will Come to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, Another update. Boy am I consistent, or what???
> 
> Also: I have this headcanon that Steve has the pottiest mouth on the earth, so when in AOU he was like "Language!" thats why everyone was like RLY?! RLY STEVE ?? RLY ?!!!!
> 
> Previously: Clint is an asshole, Natasha is an assassin, Bucky is a protective bear, and Darcy is sick of everybodies shit.

Steve Rodgers is not a nervous man, no siree, not him. He is the coolest cucumber in the whole universe. Some may even say ice cold. He could out-cool Elsa, he is so cool -

“Steve, man, I love you, but you have _got_ to stop pacing before you wear a hole in the floor of this quinjet,” Okay, admittedly, Steve Rodgers is a huge nervous mess. Leveling a severe stare at Sam he pointedly pivoted where he was standing before marching up to where Tony (Who had insisted on coming to retrieve Capsicle 2.0 and meeting the girl who had captured his Russian little heart) was piloting. After a few moments of nervous hovering he began fiddling with the ‘Jarvis is my Co-pilot’ sticker on the control panel, only to draw his hand back to his chest and give the man in question a scandalized look when he slapped his fingers.

“Don’t touch my stuff,” Tony said simply, before going back to navigating to Clint’s farm in the middle of buttfuck, Iowa.

 

\-----------

 

“Tony-”

“Shut up,”

“I just wanted to-”

“Ask ‘are we there yet?!’ again? The answer is no. God, anyone would think that seventy years on ice would have taught you some patience,”

 

\----------

 

Twenty - Yes, it had only been _twenty_ minutes - later, Tony landed the quinjet in stealth mode at the back door, where Clint was sitting on the railing with a bottle of beer in each hand and a morose facial expression. The second the ramp disengaged Steve was running down it, his Shield in one hand and smoothing the other over his hair nervously.

“Where is he? Is he still in the kitchen? Did he know I was coming?” he asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet and flickering his gaze from Clint’s face, to the door, and back rapidly.

“Gone, Nope, and apparently so,” the older (well, technically younger)  man replied, taking yet another long draw from his bottle.

 

“Fuck! Fucking son of a Fucking Fucker!” Steve bit out, dropping his Shield and grabbing one of Clint’s beers before draining it and joining him on the railing.

“Language!” called Tony from the cockpit where he was retrieving an expensive looking scotch bottle from a cooler that had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

“Fuck off,” he groused, reaching over and grabbing the other beer from Clint and finishing it.

“Aw man, really? Again?! You can’t even get drunk!”

 

Sighing at the utter shit luck that seemed to follow him around recently Steve dropped his head into his hands and let out an annoyed grunt before turning to Clint with an intense look.

“What was he like? Before he left? How could you let him leave?! Did he seem OK?” he demanded.

“He was like any well trained assassin, intense and protective of what he obviously perceived to be his. Although, he did seem pretty willing to listen to Darce when she told him to stand down, so maybe she’s wearing the pants in that relationship. I don’t know man! I don’t want to think about this shit! And I didn’t _let_ him do anything, I came out here to call you, Natasha followed and they snuck out the back and stole my truck!”

“The truck that you stole,” Natasha supplied helpfully as she walked around the corner of the porch with another two beers in her hands.

“That's not the point, Nat,” he whined, “A man’s truck is sacred, even when it’s a stolen truck, it’s the principle of the thing!”

 

Rolling her eyes at her partner she turned to Steve and gave him a hard stare.

“Do you want the truth?” she asked.

“No,” he replied sarcastically, “Lie to me,”

“There was something different about him, it was his eyes," she began carefully, appearing to consider each word before speaking it "Before it was like he was looking at you and seeing all the different ways he could kill you, but not seeing _you_. This time, I don’t know, I don’t doubt he would have pulled the trigger on either of us, but it wouldn’t have been just to kill us, it would have been to protect _her_ ,”

Steve absorbed this information for a moment before he slowly dissolved into giggles that eventually led to full on, from the bottom of the gut guffaws of laughter.

“It’s times like these when I’m ever so grateful we have a trained psychiatrist on hand,” Tony commented, staring carefully at the super soldier grasping at his stomach and giggling like a six year old.

“Oh no man, don’t look at me, that white boy’s crazy is his own,” Sam replied, leaning over and snagging the bottle of scotch before taking a swig.

“I can’t believe,” Steve gasped out, “That the jerk is fresh outta fuckin’ Hydra with a metal arm to boot, and he _still_ has more game than I do,”

  


\----------

 

“So… Roadtrip 2.0, the gang is back together, stole another car, kicked some more ass-”

“I think I liked you better when you couldn't talk,” Bucky said, glancing over as Darcy stuck her feet up on the dash and slapping them down.

“And get your feet off the dash, you’ll dirty it,” he chastised.

“First of all; Lies, lies and slander! And second of all - You are a cranky old man at heart and I sort of love it,”

“Shut up now Doll,”

 

\----------

 

Darcy Lewis definitely still hates rock when she doesn’t have a banging headache and a hunger that couldn’t be cured with a thousand cows. _Definitely_. In fact, if she had to listen to another moment of blaring cockrock, she was going to surrender herself to Hydra and demand that they shoot her. Repetitively. So when Bucky _once again_ went to change her Top 40’s station, she may have snapped, just a little.

“James _Buchanan Barnes_ , I like you, we are friends, we’re a team, you are my person, but so _help_ me god if you change the radio station one more time _I will end you_ ,”

 

\----------

 

“Bucky… is that Clint’s gun?!”

“It’s not a gun. It’s an ICER, they’re actually really interesting and they incapacitate the person you’re shooting without being fatal and-”

“You have a serious problem,”

 

\---------

 

An hour and a half into their next adventure, Darcy decided she wasn’t built for road trips. Her butt was asleep, her legs had pins and needles, she was starving, she had to pee so badly she was about to wet her pants, and she was so bored she was considering taking apart the radio and putting it back together again just to keep her hands busy.

“Doll, if you keep fidgeting like that, you’re gonna ruin the shocks on this truck,” Bucky said, looking over at her with an amused smile (a slight tick of the mouth totally counts as an amused smile coming from him)

“I’m _bored_ James! I need sustenance ! I need entertainment! _I really need to pee!_ ”  Huffing with laughter he sent her an actual smile this time (Small, but there)

“I’ll stop at the next gas station, Kay?” he asked and she nodded with a grimace, re-crossing her legs and pouting at him.

 

“Distract me,” she demanded.

“What? I’m drivin’!”

“Oh come on, you’re the most renowned assassin in the world and you’re telling me you can’t multitask?” she teased, glancing over at him and paling at the pained expression on his face at the reminder.

“Shit, James I’m-” she began.

“No. It’s… It’s fine, I am,” he replied slowly, his jaw was set as he stared at the highway and nodded at the sign advertising a gas station in twenty miles.

“You’re more than that, though,” she insisted, scooting closer to him on the bench seat and staring earnestly, “You know that, right?” Shrugging nonchalantly he continued to stare directly ahead, refusing to even glance at her.

“You are,” she said decisively, “It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe it, I believe it enough for both of us,”

 

This, at least, got her an incredulous stare.

“You’ve known me barely a week, and in that time you’ve seen me kill countless men, what else could I possibly be?” he demanded, and she took a moment to formulate her answer, knowing whatever she said was important.

“That’s true, but it’s always been to protect you, and to protect me. You didn’t have to intervene that first day, you didn’t have to take me back to the motel. You didn’t have to choose to ask me nicely for help with your arm. You _definitely_ didn’t need to comfort me when I cried like a baby on the first night at Clint’s. You also didn’t have to hold me when I had those awful nightmares, but I asked you to, so you did. You’re a good man James Barnes, even if you can’t see it when you look in the mirror, it’s pretty damn obvious from where I’m sitting,” when she’d finished talking she began to slide back to her side of the car, but was stopped when Bucky’s hand reached out and pulled her closer to him, as she settled into his side she couldn’t help but smile up at the man who had gone from kidnapper to friend in such little time.

 

\-----------

 

The second Bucky pulled up at the gas station Darcy was throwing open the door and bolting for the restrooms, too desperate to relieve herself to even cringe at the absolute mess that shrouded the dingy room. Back in the truck, Bucky huffed affectionately and smiled after her in a way that the Winter Soldier would most definitely not approve of. After he’d filled up the gas he grabbed the wad of cash he’d commandeered (Stolen) from Clint’s hidden stash and headed inside to grab enough snacks to ensure he could avoid cranky and hungry Darcy a little longer. Just as he paid, a deafening explosion sounded from outside and he cursed loudly as he whirled and drew two of his guns as he did so. Making sure they were both fully loaded, he crouched down and began making his way to the doors and ignoring the civilian that had thrown himself on the floor behind the counter and was currently hyperventilating. When he got there he could see Darcy struggling against the grip of a man at least twice her size, letting loose a stream of colourful swearwords that would make a sailor blush. Letting out a curse of his own he surveyed the compound and realized that there was no way he could possibly fight off the sheer number of men standing at attention and pointing their automatic weapons at the store and get her out alive as well.

 

The realisation made his course of action easy, as he let the guns dangle harmlessly in his hands he stood and walked through the doors, ignoring Darcy’s indignant screams of protest and the red dots collecting on his chest and forehead.

“Well would you look at that, looks like the Winter Soldier found ‘imself a girlfriend, ‘ow sweet,” the man holding Darcy crooned.

“Listen here you stupid British fu-”

“Hush, hush, now darling, it’s time for the men to speak,”

 

“Oh, well I mean if it’s time for the _men_ to speak,” she bit back before suddenly bringing her foot up, stomping it down on his boot and freeing one arm to snap up and catch him directly in the nose. _Boom mothafucka_ she thought smugly before yelping quietly as he whirled her around to face him. Her whole face scrunched up in disgust as she caught a whiff of his breath.

“Oh my _god_ , what is it _with_ you people and the lack of dental hygiene?! Honestly, don't evil Neo-Nazi organisations have dental?!,”

“Cute, love,” he smirked at her, his gaze travelled down to her feet and back up to her eyes slowly with a lecherous grin, somewhere behind her she heard James let out a feral snarl and could practically hear the assholes of the agents closest to her tightening in fear. Wimps.

“Y’know, we could always use,” he paused and licked his lips in a way she prayed he didn’t think was seductive, “ _talent_ like yours around ‘ere. Tell you what, you pledge allegiance to Hydra, and I’ll let you live,” His suggestion was so disgusting that Darcy spat in his face. She just, spat, right in his face.

“Oh god, that was gross, oh eugh, people do that in movies all the time and it just felt _right_ you know? But that was truly disgusting. Yeah, next time I’ll just nail you in the nuts,”

 

“I’m going to-” Tragically, Darcy would never find out how that sentence ended, because someone shot the man she was coming to know as ‘Weirdly Tall Smelly McBritish’ right in the face.She was fairly certain she was never going to get the blood and brain matter out of her hair, but as she caught his gun before he fell she couldn’t resist one last quip before all hell broke loose.

“You’re going to what? Come on man, don’t leave me hanging,”

 

 _Later_ , she decided as she whirled and quickly took stock of the situation that she would refer to the Gas Station Clusterfuck for years to come, _I’m going to have a nice long meltdown about what just happened_. A shot went off right next to her head. _Later_ she thought one last time before whirling into action. She vaguely caught sight of James taking out men right and left with his guns and bare hands, she also noted that there seemed to be others who were going up against countless Hydra guns, before she began spinning and kicking in the ways that Clint had taught her during her training. Despite her complete lack of upkeep on her fitness regime lately, it seemed that kicking ass was a lot like riding a bike, except for, you know, basically everything involved.

 

As much as she tried to find her ass kicking zen, she couldn’t help but add to her mental tally every time she put down another man for good. A shot to the head of the man drawing his weapon next to her, _seven_. A kick to the ribs and a twist of the neck of the man who threw her back against one of the gas pillars, _eight_. Three shots in the back of the man who had been about to knife Bucky, _nine_. A thrown knife to the throat of the man who trained his gun on her head, _ten_.

 

It took a long moment before she realized the fighting had stopped, and someone was calling her name. She raised her head slowly, her breathing was laboured as she registered the sight before her. She brought up her gun and aimed vaguely to her right as she began running to the man in front of her, letting off a shot she hit the man who had been staggering to his feet directly in the head before dropping her Glock and launching herself into his arms, _eleven._

 

“Daddy?!” she cried, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck, she began trembling as she came to terms with the bloodbath that had just occurred.

“Hey, hey there darlin’ I got you,” he crooned, bringing his hand up to the back of her head and making gestures above her head at the roof of the station.

“What-” she began to ask as she turned and caught sight of the two men rappelling off of the side of the building, “Dads!” she yelled again, detaching herself from, well, other Dad, before running towards the other two Navy Seals and throwing herself into their arms. She most pointedly did _not_ pay attention to the many bodies on the floor.

 

“What are you guys doing here?!” She demanded, looking from each of their faces in bewilderment, “I mean, not that I’m not grateful or anything, I don’t know if Bucky, as badass as he is, could have - Wait. You guys? Where is Bucky? And where the hell is Carl?” She began to look around frantically for her new friendnapper (it sounds better than constantly calling him her friend/kidnapper) and Dad number 4. Rounding the corner of the garage she found him pointing his gun right at Bucky’s forehead, before she could throw herself between them, a thick arm banded around her waist and stopped her from moving.

 

“You missed Day of the Dads, we got worried,” Carl explained, never taking his eyes off the man he was currently threatening, and _boy_ was that a sight Darcy was getting really fucking sick of. “Hello, sweetheart, I hear you’ve been busy,”

“Dad,” Darcy began cautiously, “Do you maybe want to stop pointing your gun at my new friend?”

“Your new?! Darcy! This man is dangerous! Did we not have this talk already?! Luke! Tell your daughter we had the strange dangerous men talk already!” he demanded.

“Hey, that was your job, you’re the one that stuck me with puberty and becoming a woman,” Luke replied from his position behind their daughter.

“Yeah man,” Jake piped in, “You made your bed, time to lay in it,”

“I’ll make him lie in it,” Carl growled menacingly, taking a few steps forward and jamming his gun in Bucky’s face.

 

“Oh my god, you are all _so fucking dramatic_ ,” Darcy groaned, slapping her hand over her face and ignoring the derisive snort from her right.

“I think we have a _right_  to be dramatic right now!” Carl yelled, his voice was getting so shrill Darcy was afraid he’d have another heart attack and she raised her hands placatingly.

“Okay,” she began cautiously, “Clearly you have some unresolved anger you’d like to discuss,”

“Unresolved! Luke! Tell her! Tell her all the things!” he demanded, turning and fixing his glare on his ex husband. Bucky found he wasn’t really feeling very threatened anymore, a little amused? Yes. Very confused? Definitely. But he was finding it hard to drum up any real fear at the clearly unmalicious man in front of him, Bucky had seen evil, after all, and this wasn’t it.

 

“Darcy,” Luke began calmly, “You met an honest to God, well, God,”

“How do you even know about-”

“And you didn’t tell us. And _then_ you helped save the world - and when - no, do not interrupt me when I am lecturing you kid, when we asked where you were during the invasion you said you had taken a vacation to Spain, and were nowhere near any of the ‘scary alien elves thingy’s’ at the time of the attempt on our planet,”

“Well, I mean that was _super_ classif-”

“Darcy, sweetheart, three of us are a part of the Blackest Black Ops team that Navy has, we technically don’t even exist, and Carl, Carl worked for the CIA for twenty years, we have the clearence,” he cleared his throat and shifted his grip so he could stare reproachfully at her face.

“Don’t forget about the job she took at a shady government organization that turned out to be overrun by Nazi’s,” Caleb quipped from where he was seated on a crate, casually reassembling the Glock he had been cleaning and completely ignoring the scathing look she sent in his direction.

 

“Ah yes, wouldn’t want to forget about that,” Luke intoned, giving his husband a slight smile before returning to his stern Dad facade.

“Honestly, if you were so interested in a shady government organisation _I_ could have hooked you up,” Carl complained, giving her his best Dad Puppy Dog Eyes. Darcy sighed loudly and looked heavenward, when she found no strength to deal with her ridiculous parents there she exhaled violently and stepped out of Jakes hold and raised her hands in surrender.

“Okay! I get it, you disapprove of my life choices,”

“Oh, no, not at all, we’re all very proud,” Jake told her, giving her one of his ‘I’m the Cool Dad’ grin and wink combos.

“Yeah, we’re just pissed you didn’t tell us about any of your cool adventures,” Carl added, giving his husband a cheeky smile over her shoulder, “I’m retired, Darcy, I need to live vicariously through you,”

 

Darcy thought she probably couldn’t sigh loudly enough to express her ire at the entire situation without busting a lung, it didn’t stop her from trying though.

“Well,” she began reproachfully, “If you want to continue  living vicariously through me, you will _let James go_ ,” When he simply raised an eyebrow she turned the glare up a notch, “ _Now_ , Dad,”

His sigh was louder than all of Darcy’s combined as he complied, and that pissed her off even more.

“You know we’re all on shoot to kill on sight orders for this guy, right?” Caleb asked, giving her his ‘I Disapprove of Your Men Choices’ eyes, “Maybe,” he said slowly, raising from his seat and clicking the safety off of his gun, “I should follow my orders and keep the vow I made,”

 

Quicker than anyone could track, and much to all of her Father’s collective disbelief, she moved herself between Bucky and the others, she felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder and she noticed the way all of their stares narrowed in on the gesture before moving to converge on them. Before she could think twice Darcy grabbed the ICER she’d stashed in her jeans and let off three rapid shots, looking Carl in the eyes she winced at the hurt and disbelief in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whimpered, before shooting one final round into his leg and watching the blue flash across his face as he collapsed.

“So,” Bucky said casually, “You really weren’t kiddin’. There are four of them, and they’re fuckin’ terrifying,” Darcy would later blame hysteria for the snort of breath that bubbled up from her stomach and turned to full blown laughter.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dad's finally made an appearance ! Hallelujah ! Ok, so for those of you who are confused (I know I sure as fuck was writing it) Her original Dad's are Carl and Luke, Carl is an ex CIA operative, and Luke is the leader of a seal team that consists of himself and his husband (Caleb) and Carl's husband (Jake). I'm literally not even a little sorry. 
> 
> So..... What did we all think?? I've never written action before, so that was kind of a challenge for me! I hope you all enjoyed it, and feel free to leave Kudi and Comments below ;)
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Time: The Dad's meet the surrogate Dad's, wackiness ensues, Clint Barton is 5000% done with everybodies shit, Bucky and Darcy express some feels, they hug out the feels, and then they eat some doritos and watch Bruce Willis movies**


	7. Yippy-Ki Yay Motherfucker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously : Hydra tried to fuck shit up, the Dad's save the day, and Darcy is always a badass first and a good daughter second (oops).

 

Darcy was eventually pulled from her laughing fit by the sound of sirens,

“Jesus, is it just me or did they take a _really_  long time to show up here?” she asked absently as James grabbed her hand and pushed her into the SUV that was idling on the service road. Spotting a cellphone on the backseat she quickly dialed a number she had memorised for emergencies just like this.

“Clint?”

“Darcy?! Are you OK? We -”

“I don’t have much time,” she said hurriedly before rattling off the address of the gas station, “Don’t let my Dad’s get kidnapped by Hydra, or arrested,” she added as an afterthought before hanging up on Clint’s shrill questioning and throwing the phone out the window. Her fucking life, man.

 

\-----------

 

Clint Barton knows that when he was young he’d dreamed of having his own slice of the American dream, with a wife, three kids, and a couple of cows in the pasture. He has no fucking clue how he strayed so far from the original goal. Not a single fucking clue. He stared warily at the four unconscious tied up men propped up in the back of the quinjet as Stark chattered nervously behind him and let Jarvis do all the flying. Steve was sitting nearby, looking confused as hell and Sam was openly staring at the drool dribbling down the darkest mans face. He thought caught sight of him mumbling something about this not being the shit he signed up for, but he frankly, couldn’t care less about Sam’s problems when he himself was so close to pulling a cap and flinging himself overboard without a parachute.

 

The African- American man closest to him was first to stir, his entire body went rigid as he cautiously opened both eyes and immediately engaged in an epic staring battle that probably would have intimidated Clint if he had _any_ fucks left to give. After a few minutes he seemed to give up on glowering him into talking and opted to take a more direct approach.

“Clint Barton, right? Where the fuck is my kid?” he demanded, and if Clint cared, he would have asked how the man knew his name. The next man to wake up sat up abruptly and immediately began struggling against his bonds. Seeing that Clint wasn’t going to do anything to help,  Steve reluctantly stepped forwards into the light, the last two to wake stared up dubiously at him as he clearly struggled to find words. The man on the end of the row spoke before he could.

“You’re Captain America,” he stated, in the same way you might note that the sky was blue, or comment that it had just rained.

“Luke,” he turned to the man next to him, “We’ve been kidnapped by Captain America. What the fuck has your daughter gotten into?”

“Oh,” the man he’d addressed rolled his eyes, “So _now_ she’s my daughter,”

 

“I - uh, I hate to interrupt, whatever that was about to be,” Steve said cautiously, his wide eyed gaze flicking between all the men, “But you weren’t kidnapped, you were tied up when we found you,” The only man who had yet to speak rolled his eyes before muttering out a curse that sounded a lot like Darcy’s name.

“Does someone want to tell me what the _fuck_ is going on?!” the man who Clint assumed had to be Carl demanded. Raising his hands in a ‘don’t look at me’ gesture Clint mimed washing his hands of the matter and sat back on his haunches.

“Yeah, no, I have no fucking clue- In fact, I’m going to go fly this plane and leave the parental angst to you, her uh, her actual parents, who I am not,” And then there were two, Clint thought drily as he glanced over to Steve’s panicked face and Sam’s put upon expression and smirked.

 

“As the only normal-”

“You fly,”

“ _Normal,_ ” Sam stressed, glaring at Clint for the interruption before turning back to the men and beginning to untie them, “I’ll do my best to summarize neatly,” When he’d finished untying them he settled back into his seat and seemed to collect his thoughts before launching into his story.

“So I assume you all saw The Soldier? Yeah, he’s Steve’s best friend from way back in the forties, James Buchanan Barnes, and he’s recently escaped from being brainwashed by Hydra for Eighty-”

“Seventy,”

“What? Man whatever, do you want to tell the story?!” At Steves sullen headshake he shook his head and seamlessly continued where he left off.

“Anyway, years, and now he’s somewhere in the process of regaining all his memories and leading us on a merry chase all around the world. Enter Darcy, Ex-Shield agent who we know can be trusted. We asked her to do a little low-key surveillance on some Ex-handlers of Bucky, and we failed to take into account the fact that she hadn’t been allowed to train in months, and wasn’t in any shape to take on a mission, and they made her. They attacked, Bucky swooped in and saved her, he took her and helped her recover from her injuries, and now apparently they’ve become best friends, and that’s where we’re at,”

 

The silence that followed his statement went on for ten minutes before the one that Clint thought was called Luke snorted loudly.

“She was supposed to be the boring one,”

“Right?!” asked Clint loudly. _Honestly_ , that fucking girl.

 

\----------

 

Bucky had only been driving for twenty minutes when Darcy’s breathing became labored and she began clenching her hands into fists.

“Doll..?” he asked hesitantly, reaching a hand out to her and recoiling when she flinched so hard her head smacked into the window.

“Please,” she gasped out as her hands came up to clutch at her hair, “Please, stop the car - I can’t, I can’t breathe,” Obliging immediately, he swung the car into a copse of trees and was by her side in a flash as she fell to the ground and began hyperventilating loudly, fingernails scratching into the hardened dirt enough to draw blood.

 

Drawing on an instinct he hadn’t even realized he’d had, he maneuvered her until he was sitting with her back to his front and began rubbing her hands.

“Breathe with me doll, I need you to listen to me, and I need you to breathe. In, out, In, out. There’s a good girl, you’re doing so well Darce,” he continued to babble praise as her breathing evened out and only stopped when she wrenched from his grip and staggered to her feet, whirling on him she shot him a plaintive look that made him hate himself for dragging her into this life.

 

“How do you do it?” she begged to know, sinking back down to the ground so they were facing each other, “How do you-” she choked back a sob before trying again, “I’d never killed anyone before that forest in Idaho, I told you that right? And now - I’ve, I mean, _Eleven_. I know that they… they were all bad men, right?” she paused for a second, and he didn’t think she needed to hear him speak just yet, so he waited her out, searching her face for any sign that she was about to have another panic attack.

“I mean, they were Hydra. But what if they weren’t?” At this James cocked his head to the side.

“I don’t think I know what you mean,” he told her honestly and she nodded to herself before wrapping her arms around her legs and trying again.

“I just meant - what if they weren’t all bad? What if they had - what if they had like kids who loved them? Families who were proud and clueless as to what they did in life, what if I just - oh god, what if I’ve destroyed families without meaning to? What if in trying to protect people all I’ve done is fuck up and hurt more innocent people?”

 

When she finally looked back up at him, his heart thawed a little more, only to crack at the devastated expression on her face. This was a young woman, who, a fortnight ago, had no cause to worry about things like whether or not she was justified in taking a life, and the long term repercussions of her actions. The fact that she took the time to think of the those behind the men she had felled made him respect her all the more, and he knew that just like he had Steve, once upon a time, he would protect this woman with his last, dying breath. But, for now, he would try to comfort her.

 

“I-” his voice cracked and he winced at himself before steeling his spine and meeting her eyes. “In the beginning, back in the war, I remember it being hard - so hard, because I knew that every man I took down, was another apology letter another general in another army had to write to his wife, or his mother. But as time went on - I don’t want to say it got easier, but, I guess I just learnt how to hold the pain. I thought of my family, and the people I was protecting, I thought about Steve, and how I would do anything to protect him. During Hydra, I think I always felt something, but then they burned it out of my before I could dwell on it too much. And now, well now I just think of all the pain they put me - and so many others - through, and it doesn’t even seem like they’re people anymore. They’re monsters,” when he finished he saw her visibly set her jaw, offering him a weak smile.

“Men always do make the worst monsters,” she agreed before standing and opening her arms to him. A few days ago he might have hesitated at the action, but in light of recent events, Bucky surged to his feet and pulled her to him in a fierce embrace that he hoped encompassed all the things he didn’t know how to say yet.

 

\------------

 

Two weeks had passed since the incident at the Gas station, and Darcy was feeling less and less conflicted about the Hydra scum she’d felled in light of the tidbits of information Bucky had begun sharing about his years in captivation. Every quiet story he’d told under the thick blanket of darkness while they’d shared a shitty motel bed under the cover of a bitter Iowa winter (A nice habit that happened to ease the nightmares - for both of them - but not stop them all together), added kindling the already raging bonfire of hatred she was carrying for the slippery Octopus assholes.

 

After her roadside panic attack, they had switched cars and doubled back the way they had come, Bucky had stopped abruptly when Darcy had let out an excited shout and demanded they stop next to a billboard that announced they were entering Waverly, Iowa (Home of the Hawkeye’s) and didn’t _that_ explain a lot. She had decided they would bunk here and keep a low profile until they decided to move on (Mostly because Clint would be so pissed when he found out she had been hiding away in his hometown and while she could understand his desire to drink himself stupid at the knowledge that Coulson was alive, she was still mad he didn’t call).

 

She had encrypted two iPhone’s, so they both had secure devices to contact each other and others on should the need arise(Please dear god, let it arise because she was so fucking bored she was tempted to wave a SHIELD flag out the window and scream ‘Come and get me Octo-assholes!’), she had also schooled Bucky in the modern art of Junk food, Bruce Willis movies, and the puppy tag on Pinterest.

 

Which is why they were eating Doritos dipped in marshmallow fluff(She thought it was delicious, he protested loudly at how disgusting the combination was - but he kept buying the ingredients, so she figured he can’t have thought it was _that_  bad), cooing (OK, she was cooing, he was tolerating) over pictures of German Shepherds, and watching _A Good Day to Die Hard_ (A movie franchise that will never not be awesome) , when Bucky turned to her and asked the all important question:  
“Did you mean it when you said you’d help me burn Hydra to the ground?” _Thank fuck_ she thought to herself as her mouth began to spread in what some may have described as a feral grin.

“Oh Bucky Bear, I thought you’d never ask,” at his wordless growl she began laughing wickedly. “So that's a no on the Bucky Bear, Double B?” Downstairs, the front desk attendant thought to himself that he didn’t get paid nearly enough to listen to these sorts of shenanigans as a loud thump and raucous laughter sounded from above and shifted the beams enough to rain dust on his head.

 

Two weeks later when Bucky gifted Darcy with a beautiful sleek Glock he had hand crafted - Okay, fine, maybe he didn’t do the modifications himself, but he scared a man into doing it for him, and wasn’t that basically the same thing anyway? - he tried his hardest not to roll his eyes when he made a kissy face at it and whispered;

“Yippy-Ki-Yay Mother Fucker,”

He failed.

 

Two weeks after that he announced her ready for field work, and together they began planning the most efficient ways to seek out and promptly destroy as many Hydra bases and outposts as possible without being caught by either Steve or her any of her Father’s.

 

Two weeks after that they sat together in an abandoned sniper's nest half a mile away from an old Hydra base and Bucky was pretty sure the loving way in which she talked about the explosive devices she built should have worried him, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care as they clinked their beers together and watched the place burn to the ground.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg so I want to thank you all so much for all the Kudi and comments, they make my day ! The next chapter may not be up next monday bc I'm out of the house for like over twelve hours a day at the moment for work training in the city, and that shit is fkn exshausting. But I will try ! 
> 
> There are only a few chapters left now, and I will be writing a sequel, so I hope you're all there for that ;) You're going to need it bc this isn't going to end pretty - and that's all I'll say about that ;)
> 
> **Next Time: ******Darcy and Bucky do the world - the world cries. Darcy makes friends with the mob (the whole thing). Lots of things go boom, including the Bucky Bomb.


	8. Never Underestimate Darcy Lewis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: The Dad's meet the Avengers, Darcy and Bucky are adorable and all of the feels are discussed (Well, like, most of the feels, all of the feels except the obvious elephant in the room feels), and many doritos are consumed.

_3 Months Later…_

If asked, Darcy Lewis would probably tell you she had never been more content in her entire life than in this moment. Standing on a balcony overlooking the ocean in one of Rio de Janeiro's’ most prestigious hotels with the breeze cooling her face and ruffling her hair like some kind of harlequin novel.

“You can’t stay in crappy motels all the time,” came James’ amused voice as he dropped their duffle bags in the middle of the bed before moving into the bathroom of the suite she’d booked for them using the money she’d siphoned out of Justin Hammers personal accounts. What? The man was in prison, it’s not like he needed the money, the fact that she’d always had this weird hatred for him was just an added bonus.

“No, no you cannot,” she sighed, turning her face up to the stars as she reflected upon the past three months with Bucky.

__

_Abandoned Hydra Base - Arkansas, USA - Three Months Earlier_

“So if I connect this to here and you drop this charge - Bucky, are you listening to me? Hello?!” reaching out with her foot to nudge his side she gave him an imperious glare.

“Sorry Doll, you kinda’ lost me after the third or fourth time you made Disney princess eyes at the weird space bombs you built,” he teased before turning his attention back to the gun he was cleaning.

“Okay, first of all, I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to the internet, that one’s on me, and second of all, for the last time, they aren’t space bombs, they’re subatomic particle-”

“ _Magical. Space. Bombs_ ,” he replied, giving her a smug smirk that stopped her in her metaphorical tracks.

“Whatever, Father Time, It’s not my fault you can’t understand basic science,” she retorted, turning back to the formulas she was fiddling with and proceeding to ignore his overly cheerful butt until it was time to make the building go boom.

_Abandoned Hydra Base - Ontario, Canada - Eleven Weeks Earlier_

This was the third empty building Darcy had blown up this week, and while she was all for watching Hydra outposts go down in literal flames, she was starting to get a little bored of building bombs, watching explosions, and getting the hell out of dodge before anything actually interesting happened. She decided to voice her concerns to Bucky to distract herself from the fact that he was currently driving like a bat out of hell down a very bumpy road in a particularly unreliable Jeep they have stolen in Toronto.

“So,” she said, gripping onto what she had fondly come to call the ‘Oh, Shit!’ bar on the dashboard, “Not that I doubt you in all your strategic glory or anything, but what’s with all the ghost towns? I mean, are you worried my bombs won’t work? Afraid I’ll freeze when it comes down to hand to hand contact with the enemy? Have no idea what you’re doing or where we’re going?”

“Now?” he grunted out, throwing the car into a tight right hand turn, “You want to do this  _now?_ ”

“Sure, I mean it’s not like we’re - _Holy shit tree!_ _Tree! Don’t hit the tree!_ ” The heavy silence hung over them for a few moments until Darcy finally broke and conceded, “Okay, yeah, maybe later, later is good,”

They never did have that talk, but a week later he had somehow procured passports for them under fake names, and they were heading to Europe to begin their biggest adventure to date.

_General Hospital - Budapest, Hungary - Ten Weeks Earlier_

“I would just like to put it out there, that when I requested that we have more hand to hand contact with enemy, I did _not_ mean, lets go start a fight with over _fifty heavily armed guards_ in a Hydra base disguised as a _fucking hospital_ ,” Darcy bit out, ducking under the swing of a monstrous man and shooting her modified ICER into the back of his head and gracefully sliding out of the way as he fell.

“Well Doll,” Bucky teased as he threw another thug up against a wall of glass and shattering it, “You really oughta be more specific about these things,”

\---------

Darcy learned a lot in her first few weeks in Budapest. She learned that Meat and Sauce was the best dining establishment in all of Europe, bar none. She learned that the mob was literally _everywhere_. And that they didn’t take well to people punching their Bosses son in the face. She learned how to evade the mob when they had a price on her head. And she learned that if you approach the Bosses wife and tell him that her son had been attempting to sexually assault a young drunk woman, that you would be invited inside for dinner and would get to witness a grown ass thug get a very detailed dressing down from his mother. She also learned that trying to outdrink aforementioned mother would end in the world’s worst hangover, but would gain you the respect of the entire company. She learned that when James “The Asshole” Buchanan Barnes said he was going to see how you handled being stranded alone in a strange city he fucking _meant_ it. And he learned not to underestimate Darcy Anne Lewis, or her new army of big beefy brothers.

_Railjet Train - Enroute to Prague, Czech Republic -  Eight Weeks Earlier_

“Darcy? Doll? The hell are you textin’ on that thing?” Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows as her phone let off another obnoxious ping.

“Ada, she’s telling me about this guy that Bence picked up the other night tryin’ to steal from one of their cabbie’s, the brutális hülye,” she chuckled, tapping out a rapid reply before looking up and meeting his unimpressed glare.

“Hey! I never would have even met her if _somebody_ hadn’t abandoned me in the middle of Budapest right after I helped them take down an entire Hydra research facility,” she said defensively, giving him a reproachful glare.

“I thought you would track me! Or steal some money and try to get home, I didn’t know you were going to befriend the _entire fucking mafia_ ,” he hissed back.

“Whatever, you’re just mad that Emil asked me to be his beautiful American wife,” she replied, shooting a cheeky grin at him. Honestly, she should have said yes just to teach him a lesson; Don’t mess with Darcy Lewis, because you will lose, and she will be queen of the universe. Every time.

She laughed loudly as her phone buzzed again with an incoming text message.

_Handsome young man with bow asked abt u. Should Frank take cre of?_

Ignoring Bucky’s quizzical look she shot off a reply and grinned up at him.

“Looks like Clint got our message,” she told him, showing him the conversation.

**Thats fine Ada, he’s family :)**

_Darcy_

__

_Darcy he says to say thank u for present_

__

_What did you do???_

__

_Is this man you turned down Emil for?_

__

_Darcy he says to tell u he will find u_

__

_R u sure u dont want frank to take care of???_

****  
  


_Prague Castle - Prague, Czech Republic - Eight Weeks Earlier_

“Bucky,” Darcy began carefully, eyeing the iconic building in front of them, “You know we can’t blow this us right? Bucky this is a vital piece of history. The people of Prague would revolt, we _cannot_ blow this up,”

“Why would we blow it up?” he asked, pausing his relentless iPhone photo taking and giving her a quizzical look.

“Because it’s a Hydra base, I mean - that’s why we’re here right?” Darcy asked, narrowing her eyes at the man next to her.

“What? Oh, no, I just wanted to see it,” He said, giving her a cheeky grin and turning to take a picture of a pigeon with one leg.

“You just - You wanted to, Oh my god. You just almost gave me a heart attack! I thought I was going to go down in history as that girl that _blew up_ this beautiful piece of history!” She whisper screamed, smacking his metal shoulder before immediately retracting her hand and making a pained face.

“You would have blown this up if I asked?” His teasing smile magnified as he gently grabbed her hand and checked it for injuries.

“Shut up, Robocop,”

_Prague, Czech Republic - Eight Weeks Earlier_

__

“Somewhere inside of that building, is someone with a sickening sense of irony,” Darcy stated, giving the Museum of Communism a final disbelieving look before turning back to the map and listening as Bucky gave a detailed game-plan (That’s totally what they were Mr. It’s Called a Tactical Timeline) for raiding the latest Hydra base they’d discovered. Darcy still couldn’t quite believe that they’d set up base underneath the fucking _Museum of Communism_ , but she supposed if anyone was going to do it, it was the fucking Nazis.

“That base is filled with murderers and torturers, and you’re focusing on _that?_ ” he asked, giving her a disbelieving look before checking his weapons and checking the zip line he’d shot onto the roof of the building.

“Ladies first,” he said with a small smile, motioning for her to clip on.

“This is revenge for the Emil thing, isn’t it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at the him before turning and zipping across the gap. If she’d been a lesser person, she would have missed his muttered “Now why would I do that,”

Darcy had found that Bucky had the tendency to reveal incredibly personal and shocking revelations right in the middle of a full scale battle. This tendency seemed to be in full swing on that particular night, because just as she shocked a man into unconsciousness with her crazy juiced up stun-baton and was whirling into a crouch to avoid getting shot in the head he dropped a metaphorical bomb on her head.

“The last time I saw Steve before Hydra was on one of those zip liners,” his casual tone was undermined by the man whose neck he snapped when he got too close with a large hunting knife.

“I asked him if it was revenge for makin’ him ride the cyclone at Coney Island,” he mused before peeking through a swinging door and giving her the hand signals that meant ‘More Coming’ and ‘Get Into Position’.

“It definitely was, he threw up, I spent seventy years as a guard dog, evens,” he whispered, giving her his patented self deprecating smirk before whirling into action.

An exhausting hour later, when they finally had everyone in the facility accounted for, either dead or tied up in the main lab, Darcy turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you tend to drop personal bombshells when you know I can’t react,” she chastised before grabbing his forearm and making him look in his eyes, “And I think you know that he blames himself more for that day than anyone else ever could,”

_Secret Tundra Base -Austrian Alps - Six Weeks Earlier_

“I don’t blame him,” James called out over the howling wind.

“ _What?_ You don’t blame _who?_ ” Darcy yelled back, flattening herself as a sharp blast of icy air cut through her like knives.

“ _Steve_ ,” he hollered, as if it should be obvious that that was who he was thinking about while they were scaling a fucking icy cliff, “I thought ‘bout what you said, It wasn’t his fault, I just wanted someone to blame,”

“Bucky - Buck, As proud as I am that you’re experiencing personal growth, and I am, I’m so proud dude, do you think we could maybe table it for a time when we’re not trying to pull a sneak attack on one of Hydra’s biggest military bases?!” The only thing that greeted that statement was a loud laugh that almost got swallowed by the wind before it reached her.

\---------

“I thought you said you knew how to fly this thing!” Bucky yelled as Darcy began frantically hitting the buttons on the control panel.

“No. I said, ‘Sure, a helicopter, how hard can it be?’” She screamed back, wishing like hell that they hadn’t had to enact Plan B. She hated Plan B.

“Well you better figure it out real  damn soon because the first explosion is going off in- There it goes! I’m gonna die here! I’m gonna die because you _couldn’t start the fucking_ -” His words were cut off by the sounds of the blades spinning into rotation and Darcy’s relieved laughter.

“Oh ye of little faith, Honestly princess, anyone would think you’ve never done this before,” She teased, navigating the bird away from the explosion and through the mountains.

“Shut it, Lewis,”

“So, d’ya want to talk about what you started on the cliff-face earlier?” She asked, turning and raising her eyebrow at him.

“Do you know how to land this thing?” he asked. _Shit._

“Don’t you change the subject on me, boy,” she tried for authoritative, but clearly failed when he began banging his forehead on the dash and moaning. Rude. Sighing at his dramatics, she reached for her (Now bedazzled) phone and dialed Clint’s number.

“‘Lo?” his voice was thick with sleep and menace, so she figured wherever he was it wasn’t anywhere near them.

“Hey! Clint! My brother from another Mother! The Best to my-”

“Darcy? Where are you? What’s wrong? Are you _drunk_? Also, did you join the Hungarian mafia?!” He cut her off.

“Uh, that’s classified, Um, All of the things, really, No I most certainly am not! And uh, kind of, I think, maybe? Anyway, I’m calling ‘cause I was wondering how you land a chopper,”

“How _I_ land a chopper, or how _you_ land a chopper? Because If I’m being honest the answer is you _shouldn’t_ ,” he growled out, sounding very much like he might join Bucky in the groaning and head banging, which was, quite frankly, hurtful.

“Ha, Haha, well, the thing is…”

“Darcy, you physically pain me,” he drawled before sighing and launching into a detailed description of how exactly she could land without killing both herself and her ‘Weird Time-Travelling Hobo Friend’.

_Intercontinental Hotel - Cannes, France, Five Weeks Earlier_

“So who’s the big target this time? Please tell me it’s a yacht, I’ve never been on a yacht before. Doesn’t the work yacht sound so fancy? Yacht. _Yacht_. Yaaa-”

“Jesus, there isn’t a target, I needed a break,” he interjected, giving her an amused smile before dropping face first onto the bed.

“Is this about the whole helicopter thing? Because for the _last time_ -”

“Its a not feeling like a machine anymore thing,” he broke in, and she immediately fell silent. For about five seconds. Then she dropped herself on top of him and burrowed into his back. Because personal space wasn’t a thing anymore, and she might be a complete and total badass now, but she was still a tactile badass, and she solved things with snuggles.

“Does this mean I can introduce you to wonder that is Supernatural now?” she asked after a half an hour had passed, before she poked him in the side experimentally.

“Bucky?” she asked, giving another cautious poke as he twitched, “Are you _ticklish_?! Oh my _god!_ The great Bucky Barnes is ticklish!” Some may describe the war cry that followed demented, but Darcy maintains that it was just and dignified. If asked, she would tell you that she doesn’t regret starting the Great Tickle War of 2K14, and that she may have lost the battle, but she was damn well going to win the war.

\----------

As it turns out, surprising a man who had been an assassin for seventy years is _really_ hard. Certainly not _impossible_ , but definitely difficult. Darcy figured her best bet to get James to actually watch Supernatural would be to get him near the TV, turn it on, and then throw herself onto him bodily, so he had _no choice_ but to watch with her. That was her plan, but so far, she was unsuccessful.

Which is why, two days after her mission had started, she found herself queuing up the first episode while Bucky was in the shower and laying lazily on the couch until he returned. At the sound of his footsteps padding across the tiles, she groaned loudly and raised her arms, making grabby hands over the top of the couch.

“Buck-ee,” she whined, waiting for him to appear and not anticipating his shirtlessness.

“ _Shit_ ,” she whispered, “You did that on purpose!” She accused when he shot her a self satisfied smirk, “You _knew_ what I was planning,”

“I’m pleadin’ the fifth on that one, doll,” he replied cheekily before grabbing the remote out of her now slack fingers and turning on the stupid sports channel.

“Bucky! I promise you’ll like it! Bucky! Think of the man pain! _Dean Winchester_ Bucky, Dean!”

_Bogota, Columbia - Four Weeks Earlier_

Darcy wishes she could say that life with Bucky had been all snarky remarks and playful banter, she wishes that she could tell only stories about the epic tickle fights of Cannes, or the sightseeing of Prague, hell, she wishes that there mid-mission squabbles were the worst of it. But, of course, life wasn’t that easy, nor was it that kind. Which was why she was never surprised when the bad days came.

Bucky had spent seventy years being forced to kill in the name of evil. He was a _good man_ , a good man who’d seen things, who’d done things, that no good man should have to see or do. And he paid the price every day. She saw the pain behind his eyes when he smiled, when he laughed, even when he was angry. She knew he kept it all locked away, but she also knew some days, he couldn’t anymore. His mood swings didn’t freak her out, while she couldn’t empathise, she could sympathise, and she understood, as much as she could understand, when the slightest thing set him off and caused him to withdraw into his blank-face Winter Soldier shell once again.

She knew, intellectually, that he was managing far better than he should have been, and one day, the other shoe would drop. She just hadn’t expected it to drop so fast, and hit her so hard on its way down.

They’d been on a mission she had planned, a weapons plant in Bogota, when it happened. One moment, they were exchanging their usual mid-mission banter, distracting themselves from the fact that every second that passed was another second they battled in grave danger, the next, someone had shouted something in Russian that made Bucky go very still, clearly fighting for control over himself before reaching out and snatching her ICER and shooting himself with it.

She stared at his limp body in shock for a moment before a bullet grazed her cheek and her head whipped back heavily from the impact. Whirring into action she snatched her throwing knives off of her utility belt and whipped them at the men closest to her, trying her hardest not to think about the tally that she couldn’t help but keep in her head. _Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-one, Twenty-Two._ Glancing at the ICER that had been flung across the room when James collapsed, she grabbed her back-up Glocks from her thigh holsters and went about the messy business of taking out the muscle in the factory.

The next half an hour had been a blur of limbs, punches, slashes of knives, and the deafening sounds of gunshots. When the haze finally cleared, Darcy found herself standing above James, breathing heavily and covered in blood. The adrenaline that coursed through her veins prevented her from being able to tell if it was hers or theirs, but as she sunk to her knees and checked James’ pulse one word echoed through her head. _Forty. Forty. Forty. Forty._

When he woke up, ten minutes after that, Darcy was already driving like a bat out of hell along the poorly paved roads of Columbia.

“...Darcy?” He muttered, opening his eyes slowly and taking stock of the situation before bolting upright and turning towards her.“Holy shit Darce, Are you - Are you okay? Where are you hurt?” he demanded urgently, retracting his hands when he saw the look on her face at his advance.

“...Darcy?”

“Its not mine - I think,” she managed, not taking her eyes off of the difficult terrain.

“Did I..?” he asked tentatively, and as she whipped her head around to look at him she saw the devastation in his eyes.

“No! _God_ no, no you wouldn’t,” she said, reaching out to grab his metal hand briefly before returning her attention to the track.

“You shouldn’t be so confident in my ability to keep you safe,” he told her, and she knew without turning to look that his face had fallen into the carefully constructed mask Hydra had made for him. She _hated_ that facial expression. With a passion.

“Well I’m not dead yet, so...” she said lightly, trying to ignore the nervous churning in her gut at his tone. “Also, I can take care of myself. I didn’t ask for you to be my shining night in ancient Nikes or whatever,”

“You don’t know what the soldier - what _I’m_ capable of. I know seventeen different ways I could kill you before you could even draw your gun, Darcy, if I ever lost control of myself like that again-” James began carefully, and Darcy couldn’t help feeling like she was getting the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech.

“But you _didn’t_!” She burst out, slamming the brakes on and turning her fiery glare on him.

“You didn’t lose control, you took yourself out before anything could happen, I took care of the other guys and _everything was fine!_ ”

For a few minutes all that could be heard was the screeching of wildlife and the heavy breathing of Darcy. She hated that she was so angry she was about to cry and he hadn’t even batted an eyelid their whole argument. She hated how helpless she felt when he got all stupid and self sacrificing. She hated that Hydra still had their claws so far into his brain despite how hard he was fighting to be free. Most of all, she hated the way she felt like he was trying to say goodbye.

Eventually he broke the silence, and her worst fears were confirmed.

“Next time…” he swallowed hard, and she took comfort in the fact that he seemed to be feeling something underneath his hard shell. “I could kill you, and I couldn’t live with that. You - You’re not happy. You couldn’t be with me. You won’t ever be. And I just think we need to - to not be… together anymore. For both of us,”

Darcy Lewis had been shot at, she had been stabbed, she had seen horrific things, hell - she had _done_ horrific things, but she didn’t think she had ever been in as much pain as when James told her he didn’t want her anymore. _Don’t cry_ she commanded herself sternly _Don’t do it. Bad bitches from hell don’t cry. You are a bad bitch from hell and you don’t cry for anyone._ Reaching over the back of the seat she grabbed her duffel and threw open the door, striding into the jungle.

“Darcy! Don’t be like that! At least let me drive you to the nearest hospital!” she heard James calling out behind her, but she used the skills he’d taught her and disappeared into the undergrowth, finding a spot to hide and settling down to wait. When she finally heard the engine catch and the Jeep drive away, she finally relented. _Ok. Maybe just this once._

 

_Eucador - Three Weeks Earlier_

Darcy Lewis’ general motto in life was ‘If you’re going somewhere - Can I come??’ and she found that without someone to follow, she was a little lost. Literally. She had absolutely no idea where she was. After the epic fiasco in Columbia that she was _not_ ready to discuss yet - thank you very much - she had found a river to clean up in, three stab wounds, and the nasty cut on her cheekbone that she was certain was going to scar (and was it wrong that she was a little psyched about that?). She had then gone onto jump on the back of a cattle transport truck filled with people and attempted to blend, well, as much as someone whiter than a toilet could  blend in such an environment. Over the thirty hour drive she had made friends with a chicken, a nice man with three teeth, and his bottle of what seemed to be lighter fluid but he kept insisting was “Moonshine”.

When she had jumped off of the truck at the end of the ride, the man had spread his arms wide, yelled “Quito” at the top of his lungs, and proceeded to go running down the street, leaving his chicken behind. Darcy didn’t feel quite as bad about rejecting that last capful of liquor after that - but she did claim the chicken as her own and name it Colonel. Because apparently her need to mother something was pathological and a little out of control.  After that, she drifted for a while, occasionally stealing a little bit of food, occasionally being invited inside to dine with one family or another. Always with trusty Colonel in tow - and always refusing to think about a certain someone whose name rhymed with ‘Shames’.

She had been following her new nomadic path in life for four days when she spotted Moonshine man running towards her on the street, he yelled at her in a language she still couldn't understand - she felt like it might help if she knew what _country_ she was even in - grabbed colonel, and continued on running. So she sat down on a stoop and she cried. Like a big fat baby. A big fat baby crying crier who cries. So she called Jane.

“ _Jane_!” she wailed into the phone.

“Darcy?! Oh my _god_  are you okay?! I have been worried _sick_  you inconsiderate nincompoop! Do you know how hard it is to science when you don’t even know if your best friend is out there somewhere lying in a ditch?! I’m trying to win prizes with my enormous brain here but I can’t because I’m so worried about - _No!_ Thor! I am lecturing here go - No! I do not _care_ if she is your daughter I am _talking_ to her - _Steve!_ Sam! Tell him to back off! I’m trying to-” she shut up suddenly as the sob Darcy had been fighting to keep inside ripped free of her body, and she let out a wailing keening noise that sounded something like Janes name, if you tilted your head and squinted your ears.

“Darcy?”

“Jane everything is going _so_ wrong. First I had to use my real guns and I _shot_ people and then they _died_ and then _I_ got shot and I can feel my _goddam insides_ slowing oozing out of holes in my stomach and then Bucky had to go all self sacrificing like a big dumb idiot and _abandon_ me and then I had to sit in a stinky truck with other stinky people for over a _day_ straight and I haven’t showered in so long and then moonshine man took Colonel _away_ from me and now I’m just sitting in god knows where fucking _praying_ that that asshole will come back for me because I don’t know who I _am_ anymore without him and I am so _fucking mad_ that he made me fucking _care_ about him and then he just goddam _left_! And! Ugh! _Jane!_ This is not how Beyonce raised me to behave! Oprah would be ashamed! _I_ am ashamed! And I don’t want to come home because I’m - I’m actually doing _good_ things and I’m _helping_ people and I’m taking down Hydra and I’m just so goddamn _tired_ and I don’t know what to do,”

“Ok… well there is _a lot_ in that sentence to be addressed so I’m just going to go one by one… Ok?”

“... I knew there was a reason I called you,” Darcy sniffled, settling further into the ditch she had made her new permanent residence.

“Okay, so you said you… you shot people? And they died? I feel like you wouldn’t do that unless you really needed to, so - its going to be ok?” Darcy sighed loudly, oddly enough, not feeling all that reassured in her newfound okayness with killing people just because Jane said OK in an uncertain tone, “And I’m going to go ahead and tell you to go see a _goddamn mother fucking doctor dammit that is not okay!_ Alright?! okay I’m not yelling anymore - Jesus Sam, and I’m going to skip right over the stinky comment, and the Colonel thing? I’m thinking that maybe the main problem here is your whole thing about abandonment,”

“I _know_ it hurts, sweetheart, I know you feel like sooner or later, everyone leaves you, but you have to remember that he’s not the only person in the world who you can rely on. You have me, you have Thor, you have your Dad’s, you _know_ Clint would gladly tear the world down for you - and I think that maybe whatever you’re feeling right now, if this James fellow has even half of a heart left, then he is feeling just as bad, if not worse, because he lost himself you. And I can personally vouch for your awesomeness,”

“Thanks Jane,” she said in a small voice, thinking about what she had said for a moment before opening her mouth again, “You think I’m awesome?” she asked quietly.

“Of course! I’ve seen footage from some of the Hydra joints you’ve helped tear down, you are bad _ass_!” Jane enthused.

“Really? You know what, bosslady?” she asked, standing up from the gutter and brushing herself off, “You’re right. I _am_ badass! Did you see that thing I can do with my thighs? I’m awesome ! I’m a bad bitch from hell and _nobody_ can fuck with me - not even James!”

“Yeah!”

“I’m gonna do this without him - I’m a strong independent badass who don’t _need_ no cyborg assassin!”

“Wait - what do you mean you’re going to do this without him? Darcy? You mean come home right? Book a plane ticket? Get a fake passport? Handle customs? Darcy?!?”

After she hung up the phone she sent off a single text message before she continued on into the sunset, whistling a Beyonce tune on her way.

_You’re wrong. You’ll see._

****  
  


_Bolivia - Hydra Research Facility - 2 Weeks Earlier_

She was wrong, oh boy was she wrong. She was not a tigress of doom, she was barely a kitten of darkness. She had _vastly_ underestimated how much of the asskicking portion James had taken on, and she was barely holding her own against the actual army of obviously well trained Hydra thugs she was facing.

“Cut off one head-” one of them snarled as she took a shock stick to his forehead, rolling her eyes as he went down hard.

“Yeah, yeah, shakespeare, we’ve all heard the story,” she gritted out as she dropped into a crouch to avoid a bullet and spun to face another attacker, coming up and crunching the palm of her hand into his nose, “Read the book,” she continued glibly as she used another's momentum to flip over and kick another in the groin, dropping the last two in the room, “Seen the movie a thousand fucking times,” She was about to raid the pockets of the man closest to her when she heard a metallic clump and saw a body fall in her peripheral. She began rising into a defensive position when she heard a snarled “ _Fuck_ Hydra,”

****  
  


Letting out a loud laugh she turned and was pleasantly surprised to find an asian woman, no taller than 4 foot 9, holding a fire extinguisher and glaring a hole in the collective douchiness that was the unconscious Hydra troop.

“Words to live by, sister,” she agreed, before turning to survey the men.

“Any chance you want to help me tie them all together in vaguely sexual positions to fuck with them when they wake up?”

“Hell yes I do, these assholes have been holding me prisoner here since Shield fell, I’m Jamie, by the way,”

“Darcy,” she replied, grinning when the smaller woman squinted at the nearest them and began brainstorming lewd positions for them.

That was how someone Darcy hadn’t really expected to ever see again found them cackling with some boxed wine forty minutes later. When he strode through the door with both guns drawn Darcy barely raised an eyebrow.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” she drawled, “Sorry father time, but the Early bird special ran out over an hour ago now,”

“Darcy?!” I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you doll! I was worried sick after what you pulled in Columbia!” James holstered his guns and ran his hands through his already unkempt hair. Darcy noticed his face looked even more haggard than when they met, and he’d grown what appeared to be Cousin IT on his face, before she could say anything to him, Jamie stood up and gave him a very intimidating look. Darcy liked Jamie, although she was fairly certain if she introduced her to Jane they would recruit Pepper and take over the world.

“This the asshole that told you you weren’t good enough for his company?”  she asked Darcy, raising the corner of her lip in a semblance of a snarl, at her nod she snorted, “Fuckin’ idiot,”

“I’m sorry, who are you?!” James asked incredulously, his hand twitching towards his gun before visibly calming himself.

“Jamie-lee Wong, Feminist, Forensic Scientist, Proud owner of three PHD’s, and not afraid of the likes of _you_ ,” she spoke, and Darcy had to give it to her, the girl has ovaries the size of Volkswagens.  

After a moment of visible shock, James’ ingrown good manners seemed to kick in and he stepped forward and offered his hand for her to shake.

“James Buchanan Barnes, used to be the Winter Soldier, didn’t even finish high school, massive moron, and pretty intimidated by you,” he spoke, looking over her head and staring earnestly at Darcy.

“I’m sorry, I was having a bad day and I was still recovering from what they did and  - and, I promised myself I wouldn’t give you excuses if I ever managed to find you again, but I do owe you an apology. I’m pretty fucking lost without you, and I’m sorry I ever made you leave, you were right, I was wrong,”

A whole minute of silence stretched between them before Jamie, who was still standing in between the pair cleared her throat loudly and nudged Darcy’s outstretched leg with her foot.

“As far as apologies go, it could’ve been _worse_ ,” she said, giving her a little grin before grabbing her fire extinguisher and smacking the stirring nearby goon in the head with it, “Also, we should probably do something a little more permanent about all of this,”

****  
  


_Cusco, Peru - 1 Week Earlier_

“Bucky…” Darcy began uncertainly, staring at the creature standing placidly in the middle of the room.

“Yes Doll?” He asked, glancing up from his spot reading the paper on their old grungy couch.

“There’s a llama in our hotel room,” She stated, glancing back between the two rapidly.

“There is,” He confirmed, giving her that tiny grin he reserved for times when he was being a real cheeky shit of a human being.

“Bucky, Do you want to maybe explain to me _why_ there is a llama in our sixth floor walk up hotel room?” She stressed, turning back to the animal she internally named Carl, before silently apologized to her dad for noticing the likeness.

“You said you wanted to pet a llama,” He stated simply, before going back to his paper.

“So you… bought me one?” she asked, hesitantly reaching out a hand to stroke its soft wool.

“Yup,” he popped the ‘p’, and she was so immersed in rubbing both hands through the animals soft coat that she completely missed the pleased little smile he let loose when he heard her mutter “You are  _so_ forgiven,”

_A Ridiculously Expensive Hotel - Rio De Janerio - Present Time_

Darcy was snapped out of her musing about llama wool when she heard a door slam somewhere inside the suite and turned to see James strolling towards his bag in a towel, there were droplets of water slowly making their way down the path between his abs and Darcy couldn’t help but stare. _Mama like_ she thought absently before she found herself walking slowly towards him. She was transfixed by the way the muscles in his back rippled as he moved, and when he turned to send her a questioning look, she found herself at eye level with his lips. His luscious, plump lips that Darcy just wanted to kiss the -

“Darcy?” James asked, his voice dropped an octave as she took a small step forward, so his damp chest was resting against hers.

“Mmhh?” she asked absently, intent on tracing every contour of his face with her eyes. She noted the way he seemed to have more colour in his cheeks than when he’d stepped over the rubble in the Hydra base only two weeks ago, and thank _god_ he had shaved that monstrosity off of his face. Darcy knew, objectively, that James was literally always this attractive, but in times like these, when there was literal steam swirling around them and he was in that towel and damn. She was so screwed.

She thought he was equally as screwed, but apparently, as always, she was wrong. Because when she slowly began rising onto her tiptoes, James suddenly scrambled backwards and wedged himself into the corner of the room, breathing rapidly and staring at her with wild eyes.

“Sorry,” he gasped loudly, and she could have punched herself in the face at the way he was looking at her, like he was afraid she might yell at him or hurt him for saying no to her. Once again, she felt a flare of anger curl up in her gut at the people who made him so afraid of saying no. “Oh God,” he let out brokenly, “I’m so sorry Darcy, I’m sorry. I’m so-”

“Don’t!” She cried, raising her hands in the universal gesture for surrender, “Please don’t be sorry that was like 900% my fault and I swear I won’t do it again I just thought - Oh my god I am such an idiot, I just totally tried to take advantage of you, didn’t I? Oh god, Oh _god_! I’m the drunk frat guy at the party! Oh god don’t you dare apologize again James Buchanan Barnes this is _my.fault_.” When she finished, the both stared at each other with wild eyes for a minutes before he tentatively spoke.

“I don’t -” he began quietly before reaching up and gripping his hair roughly in his hands, “I’m not… a man, not really, and if I - If I let myself get too happy they’ll - it’ll all be gone. They’ll take it,” at that he lifted his head and looked her in the eyes, “And I don’t know if I could live if they took you from me,”

At his confession Darcy dropped to her knees arms distance away from him, and tentatively  reached out and grabbed his metal hand.

“You’re not theirs anymore James, you’re here, with me, and I swear to god, I’m _never_ going to let anyone do anything you don’t want ever again, not even myself, got it?” She asked, squeezing his hand in hers and giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. He nodded wordlessly before tugging on her hand until she was curled into his side and he was holding her closely.

“I do…” he started, sounding deeply pensive, “I do want this… you. I just…. don’t think I _can_ just yet,” When he finished Darcy twisted in his arms and stared at him seriously.

“You should know, that no matter how long it takes for you to be ready, even if we’re old and grey, or like, I’m old and grey and you’re… old _er_ and grey _er_ ,  I’ll be here for you. I’m not going to leave you,”

Just then, Darcy’s phone gave off a loud, obnoxious ping that meant the hack she had started earlier was finished, and their next mission on a massive Hydra base was a go. They both gave a sigh of relief, because emotions were a thing both of them were barely equipped to handle at the best times - and Darcy really didn’t want her cause of death to be ‘Drowned in the feels she had for an ex-Soviet assassin’.

“C’mon, old man. Time for us to go to work,” she said, getting up and offering him a hand.

“You young folks these days,” he sighed as he rose, giving her his trademarked Devil-May-Care smirk, “Always in such a hurry to see some violence, let me tell you a story about back in my day…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next time: A wild SHIELD appears, Darcy is NOT HAPPY W/ U PHIL, The Avengers bust in like #Squadgoals, and awkward silence ensues.**
> 
> Note: Meat & Sauce is a real place, and their sandwiches are literal perfection. ALSO ALSO Thanks so much for all your Kudos and Comments, keep them coming bc they seriously make my day !!!!!!
> 
> So how are we all feeling about this story? Do you guys want to see more of the dads? More of the avengers? Are we liking the Bucky and Darcy dynamic? TALK TO MEEEEE


	9. Mud... or Blood?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whats this??? Two updates in one week?! Productiveness coming from mE?! Shocking, right??
> 
>  
> 
> **Previously: The epic asskicking adventures of Ducky continue, Darcy is the Queen of the free bitches, and enjoys collecting tiny pocket super brains in her spare time.**

“Where the thugs always this stupid back in _your_ day?” Darcy asked Bucky glibly as she finished stripping the moron who had done the whole double fist salute when she had rounded the corner and screamed 'Hail Hydra'. He rolled his eyes and let out an amused huff.

“You have _no_ idea how many of ‘em we took down like this,” he told her seriously, dragging the man roughly backwards into a closet and throwing any useable weapons to Darcy to store on her person. “They really scraped the bottom of the barrel with this latest recruitment wave though,” he commented, tilting his head slightly to observe the short, fat man that was out cold on the floor.

“It’s almost like the people who are any good are _unwilling_ to become psychopathic Neo-Nazis,” she said, giving him an over exaggerated  wide-eyed stare of surprise, “ _Weird_ ,” At that he snorted with laughter and nodded at the door.

“Wanna go see how many we can take down with that handy trick?”

 

\-----------

 

“I’m beginning to think that first wave of idiots was a ploy to get us to let our guard down,” Darcy yelled over the sound of Klaxons and the grunting of men being felled. Ducking to avoid - was that a fucking _sword_?!

“For the last time people! It’s a Katana!” the man in the opposite her yelled as he sliced a man’s head clean off of his shoulders that had been raising a gun to her. Darcy stood gaping at him for a moment before she realized the room had been cleaned out when she wasn’t paying attention.

“Is that… Are you wearing a fucking _unitard_ dude?!” She demanded, giving him an incredulous stare.

“Why I never,” he drawled in what Darcy assumed was supposed to be a southern belle’s voice, “This here suit is made of an army funded fiber that can withstand bullets, knives, _and_ vibranium. It is a _tac_ suit,” he sniffed, raising his head and staring down his nose at her.

 

“Huh, okay,” she said doubtfully, “If you say so Red,” Without waiting for him to reply she turned on her heel and observed the room, wondering where the hell Bucky went.

“Don’t you wanna know who I am?” he asked, bouncing on his toes as he moved into her line of sight.

“Frankly, I’d rather find my partner,” she replied, reloading her ICER and grabbing a Glock in her other hand before moving to the door.

“Who? Tall, Dark, and Obviously sexualy frustrated?” he asked glibly, inspecting his… the place where his nails would be if he wasn’t wearing a full body _unitard_. At his words Darcy quickly whipped around and pointed her gun at his forehead, giving him a deadly stare.

“Listen here, power ranger, you just saved my life - granted, it wouldn’t have been in danger if you hadn’t distracted me - but the point is, I _am_ grateful. but so _help_ me god if you have harmed a hair on that man’s head I will _end_ you,” she hissed. The man - she knew this was a safe assumption because of the sizable bulge at the front crotch area of what was essentially the tac suit version of tights - raised his hands slowly and cocked his head to the side, as if he was trying to figure her out.

 

“Y’know, I was sent here to kill you,” at his words, her hands tightened in the gun and she flicked the safety off, “I don’t wanna,” he said sounding petulant. “I don’t _care_ if it makes the story more dramatic, or heartbreaking. I like you. The world needs more sassy adorable badasses like you. You can stay,” When he finished speaking he gave a firm nod, and finally sheathed his Katana behind his back.

“I-Thanks? I think?” she finally said, holding her gun steady all the same. “Who hired you?” she demanded, taking a step forwards and pressing the gun under his chin (Because _damn_  this guy was tall and she couldn’t even reach his goddamn forehead), “And _where the fuck_ is James?”

“Who d’ya think hired me?” he asked cheekily, and she thought if she could see his face he might be smirking, “And thankyou so much for asking. Name’s Deadpool,” at this, he held a hand out for shake, but their proximity meant it was brushing up against her cleavage. And saver of her life or not, Darcy was _not_ having any of that shit today. Holstering her gun she grabbed his hand and twisted it painfully behind his face and used the element of surprise to shove him against the wall. She suspected he was letting her do it, but decided it was worth it to make her point.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” he sounded scandalized, and turned his head so she could see his black eye patch, “In _that_ case, you can call me Wade,” Letting out a wordless growl she dropped his arm and grabbed her guns once more, striding for the door.

“He’s in the next hallway over, when you ran into this room he suddenly found himself surrounded by Hydra’s finest,” he called out and she turned to give him her fiercest ‘Carry on’ glare. “He was _very_ distraught to see me follow you in here, I think,” he said, doing the weird nail thing again, “Maybe even enough for there to be a very nice _thank god you’re alive_ kiss,” he said, giving a pointed glare at the ceiling that she ignored before rolling her eyes and sighing.

“Goodbye Wade, Nice to meet you Wade,” giving him one final glance over her shoulder before exiting she gave a cheeky smirk of her own, “It _is_ _so_ a unitard Wade,”

 

“Damn,” he sighed when she left, before flipping himself up and into the vents “I ship Ducky so hard,” _Me too Wade, me too_.

 

\--------------

 

When she found the hallway that Bucky was fighting hand to hand with a number of men in, Darcy gave another heavy sigh. _Wouldn’t survive a damn day without_ _me_ she thought to herself before calmly raising her ICER and firing off four shots in quick succession. Raising her eyebrows at Bucky she gestured at the now unconscious men with her head.

“Well? You gonna tie them up or do I have to?” she asked, before she was enveloped in a bear hug.

“Oh thank god you’re alive,” he sighed, his arm was clicking furiously as he held her to him and she reluctantly tapped him back.

“Won’t be for long if you don’t stop squeezing like that,” she wheezed, and he immediately let go.

“Sorry!” he bit out, quickly checking her for injuries with gentle hands, “I’m sorry - wait, how, I mean, not that you’re not awesome or anything doll, but that was _Deadpool_. The guy is a certified nut job, and one of the best at what he does,”

“Who? Wade?” She asked innocently, giving him an angelic stare and turning to drag the men into a nearby supply closet when he gave her an incredulous look.

“You - he went in there to _kill_ you, and now you’re on a first name basis?!” he asked, before shaking his head ruefully and moving to help her. “Y’know what? I’m not even surprised anymore. You have officially shocked me for the last time. Nothing you can do after this will phase me, at all, ever,” he said, and pointedly ignored her smirk.

“Challenge accepted,”

 

\------------

 

When they finally made their way back into the atrium of the abandoned resort that the base had made its home, the were both covered in blood, and Darcy had a number flashing in her brain, long since having lost her ICER. _Fifty-Three. Fifty-Three. Fifty-Three_. Which is why she let out a loud groan when she spotted a group of eight men in full tac gear with AK47’s. She let loose a single throwing knife before she dived behind the admissions desk and rolled over to look at Bucky.

“Fight evil they said, It’ll be _fun_  they said,” she mocked, banging her head quietly on the floor before checking her weapons. From his spot beside her he let out a quiet chuckle,

“‘M pretty sure you were the one who said those things, doll,” he reminded her before motioning for her to get ready to rise. Just before they could, though the building began to shake.

 

“What the _fuck_?” she asked incredulously, “Is that an earthquake?!” He gave her a helpless look and grabbed her hand, rolling her so he was lying over the top of her.

“Run!” he yelled as a piece of ceiling dropped into the place she had just been lying in.

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” she screamed as a another piece fell right in front of the exit. Giving him a helpless look she took his proffered hand and followed him to the bay of floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the twenty foot drop to the ground. Bucky raised his gun and let off ten shots in quick succession, shattering the window and creating and opening for them to leap out. They crossed the threshold just as the building collapsed behind them, and the pressure of the falling debris pushed them both into an out of control freefall.

 

“Well _fuck_ ,” Darcy huffed from her place on her back in the mud. “You alive over there, old man?” she called as loudly as she could manage when it felt like all of the air had been pushed out of her body in one fell swoop. She heard a vehement curse from somewhere to her right over the ringing in her ears and took that as an affirmative. She gave herself a few more minutes to collect herself before she pushed herself into an upright position and immediately let out a loud groan.

“Ugh, Ribs, no,” she whined, moving her arm to clutch her middle and she struggled to her feet and found Bucky doing the same, a few metres away.

“What the hell was _that_?” she asked him when she caught her breath.

“Hell if I know, you’re the weird space bomb expert,” he told her ruefully, clutching his gun in one hand and pushing his hair out of his face with the other.

“Oh no, that was no bomb,” she told him certainly, and squinting into the distance where she could see some figures rapidly approaching.

“Fucking god dammit, I knocked my goddamn contacts out,” she complained, and smiled gratefully when her glasses appeared in her line of (very blurry) sight. Only to blink in shock at who was approaching.

 

“Phillip _fucking_ Coulson!” she screeched, pushing around Bucky’s protective stance and dropping her gun in the mud in favour of swinging her fist into his face. Before she dropped that back to her chest protectively too.

“Oh fuck, ow, fuck, yep, found some more broken bones, jesus _fuck_ how come _you_ never break any bones?!” she asked Bucky accusingly before remembering she was meant to be lecturing. Looking back at Phil she was surprised to find a dark haired girl with an Icer pointed in her face. Rolling her eyes at the theatrics and the threatening growly noise Bucky was making from behind her, where she knew without a doubt he was pointing at least three weapons at her at once somehow, she focused on Phil again.

“He deserved it,” she said at the same time and he affirmed.

“I deserved ‘dit,” he was cradling what she presumed was definitely a broken nose, and she couldn’t help but feel a stab of vicious pride.

 

“Just be glad I lost my stun baton a while back,” she told him seriously, before turning to the girl next to her who was in the process of… vibrating angrily? “Oh good, just what this day needs, powered people,” she said sarcastically before glaring once more at the walking dead.

“So, how’s the afterlife treating you? Find a new boyfriend? Seeing as you _obviously_ don’t have any need for the old one anymore,” she snarled and he flinched backwards in a way that he hadn’t when she had swung at him.

“How _dare_ you,” the girl who had apparently gotten her tremors under control (Thank god) said, taking a menacing step towards Darcy, and being intercepted by a silver hand picking her up by the throat.

 

“Bucky?!” Phil asked incredulously as the other girl’s eyes went as wide as saucers.

“Darcy?!” Came a surprised yell from the other side of the yard, and as they all turned to see who the newcomer was, Darcy let out a delighted yelp.

“Trip??” She cried, and wasn’t entirely surprised when Bucky dropped the girl to whirl on point a weapon at the dark man who was making his way over the yard towards them.

“Bucky,” she said, laying a hand on his forearm, “It’s okay, Trip won’t hurt me,” he didn’t lower the weapon, but he did click the safety on, which Darcy went ahead and counted as a win. He did, however, step in between the two when Trip made to give her one of his trademark bearhugs.

 

“I think that’s close enough, son,” he snarled, and Trip raised his hand placatingly.

“Alright man, it’s cool. I won’t touch her, I can see that you’re protecting her - I won’t mess with that,” he said, keeping his hands in the air and slowly moving so that he was by Skye’s side.

“Trip’s a Howling Commando Legacy, we can trust him,” Darcy said, putting her uninjured hand on Bucky’s side, grounding him. At this new information, Bucky blinked a few times before lowering and holstering his gun, and offering his hand.

“Gabe’s Grandkid?” he asked gruffly, giving what looked like a crushing handshake, but Trip took well.

“And Peggy’s,” Trip responded, giving a small smile and ignoring the face that Phil was making in the background.

 

“Say,” Phil’s voice suddenly cut in, “How would you guys like to come back to our base for a few days?” he asked Darcy, “It’s a great base, very secure, we even have a vault to keep all of your,” at this his eyes darted to Bucky and back to her again, “Weapons,” They both tensed at the tone of his voice, and Trip gave him a dangerous look.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea, Phil,” he said in a tone that indicated that that was the understatement of the year.

“I’m inclined to agree with Trip,” Darcy said, giving him a wary look and slowly reaching her hand to rest on her gun again, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by the others. Before he could reply, Phil’s phone pinged, and he let out a quiet curse.

“We’ve gotta move out,” he said, giving Bucky one last long look, “The offer stands,” he told Darcy, before turning and boarding a Quinjet that suddenly made itself known, hovering just behind them with guns at the ready. Just before he boarded Trip turned and gave her a little two little fingered salute.

“See ya around Liz,” he said with a small smile.

 

When they flew away Bucky turned to Darcy and gave her a flat look.

“He was going to try to take me prisoner and sell us out to the Avengers, wasn’t he?” he asked, and she gave a slow nod.

“I think he’s pretty desperate to get their forgiveness right now,” she said, turning to smile at him. “Looks like it’s just you and me against the world for a little while longer,”

 

\-----------

 

Just as they were limping towards the underbrush where they’d hidden the Jeep they’d commandeered (Yes commandeered - it was _not_ stolen, Thank you very much Bucky), keeping in the theme of ‘Oh shit, Oh god, Not Good’ theme of the day, the Avengers burst into the clearing in typical badass superhero squad style. That is to say, in sync and looking frankly awesome. Well, that is, until the realized the base had already been taken care of. Then they kind of looked like someone had kicked their puppy.

 

Tony was the first to spot the pair, and as he flew over to them and dropped into the iconic Iron Man crouch (Oversold, if you asked Darcy), she couldn’t help but snort loudly at his theatrics. She’d met Tony once or twice while he was pestering Jane to come join his Legion of Misfits, and she knew from experience that he was inappropriate and hilarious in the best of situations. She couldn’t wait to see how he’d react to having his Thunder stolen by someone other than Thor, who promptly strode up and wrapped her up into a bear hug of epic proportions.

 

“Darcy!” he boomed in a voice she knew he reserved for special occasions and battle highs.

“Hey Bud-Ow, shit, dude, down!” she exclaimed, and as he gently lowered her to the ground, Bucky grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him, giving the assembled group in front of them a wary glare. Over the comms, she could faintly hear Clint yelling.

“Ask her where the _fuck_ that llama came from!” Letting out a snort of laughter Sam replied.

“If only you hadn’t broken your arm jumping off that building last week,” he drawled, “You could ask her yourself,”

 

“So,” Tony broke the uncomfortable silence that followed, _Of course it was Tony_ Darcy thought idly. “You took this whole base down yourself? And I gotta ask, blood or mud?” Deciding to forego the information about Phil and his weird quaking sidekick until she could get more info on them to share, she nodded slowly.

“Yeah, it’s kind of our thing,” she told him, giving a small smirk, “And a bit of both, really,”

“Really?!” Tony asked again, flipping his faceplate and giving her an admiral look, “Even the underground part?”

“What underground part?!” Darcy demanded, just as a hole roughly the side of a football field opened in the ground to their right. “Oh,” she said redundantly, “ _That_ underground base. Yeah, no, thought we’d leave a little something for you guys,” Tony let out a final huff of laughter and gave her a weird look before slamming his faceplate down and launching himself into the fray of the battle that the rest of his team were engaging in.

 

Only Steve stayed behind and when he took a step forwards and opened his mouth, Bucky’s grip grew tighter, and he seemed to be trying to make himself invisible behind her, like a small child.

“No,” he wheezed quietly, “Make him _go_ ,” he begged her, and she squeezed his hand gently before untangling herself and taking a threatening step towards Steve that was more of an injured hobble.

 

The rant she was about to unleash about not scaring her assassin was drowned out by the angry roar of the Hulk as he suddenly burst out of the now uncloaked Quinjet that had been sitting nearby. Steve took another tentative step forwards and looked over her shoulder at Bucky, who was now staring at the ground with both weapons in his hands and ice in his eyes.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Darcy commanded forcefully, “Do not even _think_ about it,” At his angry glare she rolled her eyes at him. “You do not get to act like it is your _right_ to talk to him, to hunt him down. Don’t you think he’s suffered enough?! Don’t you think that when he’s ready, he’ll come find you?”

“But-” Steve interjected, looking heartbroken.

 

“No,” Darcy repeated, moving to block his view of James. “It isn’t your place right now,”

“It isn’t my place?” he asked in surprise, drawing himself to full height and glaring at her. “Who are _you_ to say it isn’t my place? You don’t know anything about him! I’ve known him my whole life! He’s my best friend! You’re just some girl _I_ asked to help do surveillance!” by the end of his rant he was yelling and breathing heavily, and Bucky was making a low angry noise behind her at the perceived threat to her person. Raising her hands slowly she gave Steve a level look.

“You were his best friend, past tense, Steve, you knew him, who he was, before Hydra. He’s not that same guy anymore, nobody could be. So you might have known him, but I’m the only one who _knows_ him right now. So I’m telling you to _leave him alone_ before I _make_  you,” she was practically vibrating with anger at this point, and she only restrained herself from yelling by grounding herself using the hand that had settled on her waist.

 

Steve looked wounded as his gaze flicked from her face to the place where Bucky held onto her like a lifeline, needing protection from _him_. And finally, she sighed, giving him a pitying look.

“I’m sorry, Steve, you were a huge part in his life, you loved him like a brother, and he loved you too. You guys were family. And that means something, I know it does, hell, he talks about you all the time. But - and I don’t want to speak for him anymore than I already have, because he’s a person, and he’s been spoken for enough in his life - but when he’s ready, I have a feeling that I’m going to be old news, and you guys will be family again,” before Steve could reply, the comms crackled to life and even Darcy could hear Natasha yelling over the line.

“Captain! We need you down here!” with one last longing look at the pair, Steve turned and ran down the ramp.

 

Darcy could feel Bucky’s breathing even as he walked away, and she turned and grabbed his hand, catching sight of the Quinjet once more as she did. Giving him a conniving smirk she gestured towards it.

“What do you say we go take a ride?” At his stare she gave him an innocent smile, “What? I’ll leave the keys to the Jeep behind!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.. Okay! So much to say! Deadpool? Not sure where he came from. Like, I'm not even kidding, I had literally no intention of adding him in there and then my traitorous fingers typed the word sword.. and well, he kind of takes over sometimes. Also I love Wade Wilson on a deep spiritual level soo.
> 
> HOW DID WE FEEL ABOUT COULSON?! I feel like Darcy went easy on him bc she'd just almost died like fifty times. Also.. Trip???? Bc in my canon that motherfucker DID NOT DIE OK HE IS ALIVE AND DENIAL IS MY FRIEND
> 
> But he and Darcy have a paaaaaast and one day Bucky will remember to be jelly of that so you have that to look forwards to ;)
> 
> Also Tony tony tony tony baloney - I don't know why I wrote that ahh I'm so tired
> 
> AND STEEB! Did you guys think Darcy was too harsh? She just wanted to protect her innocent sugar bun too good too pure for this world 
> 
>   _Also, Fun news, I finally got a fandom tumblr (AKA I changed the name of my old one and unfollowed literally everyone - so if you want to go follow me (shesasuperfreak-superfreak)(( I was listening to the song don't judge me )) I want to start a soulmate fic with like loads of different pairings, so any prompts/suggestions would be excellent ;)_
> 
> _**Next Time: The Avengers have a collective sulk(Except for Thor bc the Mighty god of thunder does not sulk ty), pancakes are almost consumed, Bucky visits Walmart AND I rip all of your hearts out (It's the finallleeeee !) Srs be prepared to want to legit murder me**_
> 
> _**I mean, even I kind of want to murder me for it is all I'm sayin'**_


	10. The One Where Everything Goes FURBAR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'm not even sorry**
> 
> Previously: Darcy and Bucky kick some ass, Darcy makes some even more dangerous friends, Darcy and Bucky kick more _more_ ass, SHIELD busts in and SHIELDs all over the place, and promptly fuck off just in time for the Avengers to show up like #Squadgoals 
> 
> Oh, and Darcy steals a Quinjet

Tony Stark is not a man who likes having his stuff taken. Which was why he was currently sitting in the mud with his arms crossed firmly over his chest and _not_ pouting damnit. He maintained that what was happening was a completely healthy reaction to being stolen from by that _damn_ girl. He also really wished that the Hulk would tone down the power on the Bro-fist he’d taught him post battle, because if his Iron Man armour was still functioning he could be halfway home and taking a nap while Jarvis piloted right now. He resolved to come back later and blow up her car, just to feel a little better about the situation. He was seriously considering melting the whole thing down and using it as scrap metal in his lab.

 

Captain America doesn’t get sad, Captain America gets righteous, and disappointed in you. But not sad, never sad. Sad is Steve Rodgers gig. Which is why Steve had ripped off the cowl the second the battle finished and proceeded to fall in a heap next to a sulking Tony, who every few minutes would raise a finger and yell “And _another_ thing” in an outraged tone and list something else that had been taken from him by ‘that wretched girl’. At one point he listed his dignity. Not even this could cheer Steve up.

 

Sam Wilson often wonders when the hell his life became an episode of _The Bold and the Beautiful_. He couldn’t help but feel like Riley was up above with all of Steve’s old war buddies laughing their asses off at them. To be fair, if he wasn’t currently standing in knee deep mud watching Iron Man sulk and Captain America fight back tears, he’d probably laugh too. But as it was, he was hot, sticky, and sick of goddamn flies making his face their home.

 

Thor Odinson could not be happier. He had just completed a glorious battle in an underground fortress, the gates of valhalla were bathed in the blood of his enemies, and he was one step closer to collecting his brother’s Scepter and being able to return home to his beautiful Jane. Add in the fact that her best friend and his honoured shield-maiden had become a most mighty warrior, and his day was looking very fine indeed.

 

Clint Barton sort of feels like he’s been set on fire, and had that fire put out with a MACK truck. He also really wants a beer, or a bourbon. He never set out to become Darcy’s overprotective brother, but now he can’t help but feel a little upset that he’d been made redundant by her own competency. Mostly proud, but still a little disappointed that he couldn’t knock heads together on her account anymore.

 

Bruce Banner can remember a time when his life was peaceful, there were no superheroes with egos the size of the other guy, no dramatic explosions, no ridiculously urgent ‘If we don’t do it the world will end’ type missions. Sure, he may have been on the run from basically everyone and everything he had ever know. But at least it was quiet.

 

Natasha Romanoff ponders what kind of universe she lives in that suddenly _she_  was the sane one of their little group. Sighing to herself at the collective sulking (Or in Thor’s case… Jubilation?), she pulled out her Stark phone and dialed a number.

“Yeah, it’s me. Your daughter did it again, and now we need a ride,”

 

_3 Months Later…_

 

The International House of Pancakes is sacred - you do _not_ fuck with iHop. Ever. Which is why Darcy felt fairly secure in _finally_ introducing Bucky to the wonder that was endless stacks of pancakes smothered in whatever your heart desired. She also felt that introducing Bucky to something as simple as pancakes wouldn’t backfire quite as spectacularly as when she showed him snapchat.

 

For a fully-grown man who had spent seventy years at the mercy of an evil organisation filled with nazi psychopaths, he sure was a literal child when it came to anything technology. He snapchatted her at least sixty times a day, and often _while_ they were having an actual real life conversation. As the thought crossed her mind, her phone buzzed, and Darcy prayed to Thor for strength before checking it and finding he had taken a picture of a child wearing an Iron Man shirt with the caption “Loser”.

 

Before she could sigh again and tell him off, the windows exploded. Because of _course_. She should have known Hydra would fuck up pancake time, and god knows they’d been chasing them since Rio - but she really had thought there were some lines you didn’t cross. Apparently, she was wrong. From her place under the table, she saw her phone vibrate on the floor a metre away. Glancing at Bucky and sighing at the smirk on his  face, she reached across and opened her snapchat app. She let out a short bark of laughter and nodded at him when she saw the picture of Hydra goons lined up holding AK 47’s, with the caption “ _Assholes_ ”.

 

“I just wanted,” she muttered to herself as she opened her backpack and began assembling the collapsable Bazooka she had designed, “Some Mother _Fucking_ Pancakes,” When she’d finished, she propped it on the table and pointed it out the shattered window. “Honestly,” she remarked to James as she fired the weapon and blew up the humvee parked outside with a satisfying explosion, “Is _nothing_ sacred to these people?”

 

Darcy took a moment to take stock of the situation and glanced around the restaurant at the patrons huddling down and hiding; there was a pregnant woman and her child (Iron Man kid), a terrified pair of teenagers who appeared to have been on a date, and an old man who was trying to drag a young woman who had been caught in the crossfire behind the counter. Signalling to Bucky she was going to help secure the civilians, she grabbed herself two guns and a hunting knife before pushing off and sprinting to the old man. Scrambling over the glass covered floor, she could feel her hands and legs being sliced up, but she pushed through the pain and together, they got the girl to safety.

 

“Are you the FBI?” the man asked, giving her an awed look. She let out a startled snort of laughter before grinning at him.

“They wish,” she retorted, clapping him on the shoulder and staring seriously into his eyes. “But believe me, I am one of the good guys, and I’m going to keep you people safe, got it?” When he nodded she smiled again before checking her weapons, taking a deep breath, and charging out into the fray.

 

She spotted Bucky going hand to hand with three different men outside and immediately went about the task of taking out the remaining men. Raising her ICER she shot a man in the head who was talking rapidly into a radio, and immediately ducked out of the path of a knife that was flung at her head. Rising from the crouch she had dropped into she pivoted and twirled her way through the rain of bullet directed at her and cursed loudly when one ripped through the sleeve of her t-shirt.

 

“Oh _hell_ no,” she exclaimed, “This was my favourite shirt! My _grandmother_ bought this for me,” Immediately raising her gun she shot the man who had hurt the garment in the crotch.

“You shot him right in the dick!” Bucky yelled from where he was facing off against a fresh humvee of the fools. Rolling her eyes at the quote and seriously regretting allowing him to join her Netflix account, she turned and glanced at one of the last remaining men, who was smirking at her and pointing his gun directly at the young boy, who couldn’t have been more than eight years old.

 

“No!” Darcy yelped, throwing herself in front of the bullet and hitting the ground with a shock of pain so severe she almost blacked out. She vaguely heard Bucky screaming her name before all she could concentrate on was the burning sensation in her shoulder that was unlike any other pain she had ever felt. It was if someone had shoved a hot poker into her shoulder, and was slowly pulling it out before slamming it back in everytime she felt like it was reaching a bearable level.

 

In her haze, she felt a small hand touch her face, and as she began to clear, she realized that the sounds of resistance outside were slowly getting quieter. When they fell silent, she managed to get out a single word.

“Buck-y?”

“Doll? Oh god, Darce, I’m here okay? Where are you shot? Oh god I thought you were dead, are you okay? What do you need? Oh god if you’d died I don’t know what-” He was cut off by her raising her arm and placing her hand over his mouth.

“You know, if I knew getting shot this much, I might have done it more to those fuckers,” she joked weakly, and was immediately silenced when he surged forwards and covered her mouth with his.

 

If either of them were coherent in any way, they would have noticed the civilians in the restaurant applauding at whistling at them, but as it was, they were a little preoccupied. When he finally drew back, he gave a little half smirk and brought his gaze from her lips to her eyes.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while now,” he told her quietly and immediately moved to cover the bullet wound when he saw the look on her face.

“I give you a ten for sentiment, and a zero for timing,” she managed to rasp before passing out completely.

 

\-----------------

 

Darcy Lewis will swear up and down until the day she dies that there was a time when waking up in a crappy motel room in indescribable pain might have surprised her, caused her alarm, even. But now it just kind of felt familiar, and she was pretty sure that was a bad thing. As she fought her way to consciousness, she felt a hand gripping her own, and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You know, I have the _weirdest_ Deja Vu right now,” she joked weakly, and the man next to her gave a humourless snort before reaching his other hand up and brushing her hair off of her face.

 

“How’re you feeling doll?” He asked quietly, and she wondered if he even knew he was tracing her name onto her cheek with his thumb, almost like a prayer.

“Not great, mostly just wondering if I’ve finally lost the plot and hallucinated that kiss,” she told him, turning her head slowly and giving a teasing smile. Which he took as a cue to swoop in and cover her lips with his own again. The kiss was innocent and gentle, and if she wasn’t in so much pain and in a bed she was pretty sure hadn’t been cleaned in years, Darcy would have called it perfect.

 

When he broke away and traced the contours of her lips gently, Darcy most certainly did not melt a little, thank you very much. She was very much a grown ass woman who could not be so easily wooed by a chaste peck of the lips. Nope. Not at _all_.

“As much as I would love to enjoy the fact that this is _finally_ happening,” she told him gently, giving him a smile, “There is currently a hole in my shoulder that recently housed a bullet, and your timing is, as always, questionable,”

 

At her confession he jumped backwards, and the look on his face would have been comical if it wasn’t so worried about her wellbeing.

“Shit, Sorry Doll. Fuck, swear I used ‘ta be good at this,” he told her earnestly, and so of course - of course, she laughed at him. And because the pair of them were just as crazy as each other, he joined her. Their laughter could be heard all the way down the hall, and when they finally collected themselves Darcy managed to wheeze out a pained noise.

“Okay ohmigod this _really_ hurts,” she whined, grabbing at his hand again and scrunching her face up in pain.

 

“Okay, alright thats fine, it’s okay. We need supplies, but I don’t want to leave you. I mean, we could -”

“Bucky,” Darcy interjected, “Bucky - look at me, my young padawan. Your time has come. Go forth, my beautiful butterfly, and take on the enigma that is wal-mart and collect us bountiful supplies,” Sensing his hesitation, she used her good arm to reach up and drag him back down. She placed a swift kiss on his nose before shoving him up and away.

“The sooner you fix the unintentional holes the sooner you can pay attention to the _other_ holes,” she told him, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh god,” he snorted, screwing his face up at her, “Never say that again. That sounded disgusting,” Rolling her eyes at his dramatics she pointed at the door.

“I was talking about my _face_ hole you dirty old pervert!”

 

\-----------

 

The Winter Soldier didn’t know what love _was_ , and Bucky Barnes had never actually _been_ in love. But, despite his distinct lack of experience, he thought that maybe what he was feeling was the real deal. It was like someone had taken all of the feelings he’d ever had for other people, the girls he’d dated, the way he wanted to protect Steve, the unwavering loyalty he had for his family, combined them, and multiplied them by ten. He had, of course, realised this in the first three months he knew her. He’d waited to make a move mostly because he was an idiot, but partly due to his not irrational fear that once he acknowledged this thing between them, something bad would happen and life would take her away, like it did all the good things in his life.

 

Snapping out of his thoughts, he quickly pulled on his gloves and looked up at the huge glowly ‘Walmart’ sign. Usually, Darcy was the one to go on supply runs, she had joked that if she took him inside, they may never leave. Walking through the door, he saw what she meant. Everywhere he looked, there was something completely different to the item it was sitting next to. There was just _so much stuff_. Taking out his phone, he looked at the list Darcy had helped him prepare, and set about on his mission to get all the things he needed to fix her.

 

He started in first aid, and then made his way to confectionary, because as Darcy often told him, Chocolate healed all. Hopefully even his bumbling attempt at wooing. When he was scrunching his face up at the wide range of chocolate available, an old woman sidled up next to him.

“When in doubt, go for plain - _every_ woman loves plain,” she told him with a wink, before disappearing around the corner and humming about what sounded like young love. Deciding to follow that logic, Bucky quickly filled his trolley with every available packet of what appeared to be plain chocolate, and began to head to the register.

 

On his way, he catches a glimpse of a Shield, and turns his head to see a whole range of Howling Commando teddy bears, and there, on a pedestal for everyone to see, sits a Captain America and a Bucky Bear, side by side. He felt a pang of loss in his chest at the sight, and couldn’t help but feel a little guilty when he grabbed the Bucky and carefully tucked it into the baby seat of his cart - for Darcy(Of course) - and left Ste- _Captain_ behind. This way, she had someone who she could _rightfully_ call Bucky Bear, instead of him.

 

The checkout itself, he found, was a most peculiar experience. The bored teenager that was snapping gum and looking at him expectantly as he studied the wide range of items that had been displayed  presumably to lure him out of more of his hard earned (Stolen) money had bright purple hair, which he actually kind of liked. And she had more metal on her face than he did in his arm, and he wished he could find a way to subtly snapchat it back to Darcy.

 

When he finally selected three separate magazines that promised to teach him all about the Do’s and Don’ts of modern dressing - is it a crime to want to dress for the century you’re in, not the one you’re from?! - he turned to the young lady and gave her a polite smile before he realised that there was someone suspicious behind him in the line.  Trying to remain calm, he slowly began edging his hand towards where his gun was resting, but saw the man with the low hat shake his head slowly and nod his head towards the door.

 

As soon as he’d crossed the threshold and moved far enough from the doors to minimize risk of civilian harm by 67% in the event that there was to be a fight, he dropped his bags on the bitchument and whirled with both guns in his hands.

“You must save her,” the stranger said, and if he had to guess, James would have said his accent was Cajun, most likely from somewhere in Louisiana.

“Save who?” Bucky demanded, taking another step closer and flicking the safety off.

“The girl, the one who smells like sunshine and reigns terrible wrath onto your enemies. You must stop them before they do to her what they have done to us,” he said before turning and beginning to walk away.

“Who _are_ you?!” Bucky yelled after him, and for a moment, was sure he wasn’t going to respond.

“A fellow experiment,” the voice drifted back eventually, and with his final word, Bucky spurred into action.

 

“ _Go_ ,”

 

\------------------

 

James Buchanan Barnes had always prided himself on being level headed, growing up with a best friend like Steve Rodgers - who came home with a one serious illness or another on the days he didn’t have a shiner - he had to be. But he wasn’t ashamed to admit he may have lost it, just a little, on his drive home from the Walmart. He doubled the speed limits on the sleepy backroads and screamed around corners so tight he was sure he was going to flip the dusty old car he’d stolen before he could even get back to her.

 

He tried to tell himself that the strange man didn’t know what he was talking about, that he was just trying to scare him into doing something stupid - but somewhere deep down, he just _felt_ that something was wrong. He’d left the woman he loved alone and basically defenceless, against all of his better instincts, and he was fucking _terrified_ she was about to pay the price for his stupidity. The uneasy feeling clawing at his gut was not helped along by the fact that she wasn’t answering her phone as he dialed frantically.

When he finally peeled into the parking lot and leapt out of the car before it the engine even turned over, he ignored the smell of burnt rubber as his gaze narrowed in on the image before him. The door to their motel room was ajar, and a single perfect handprint marked it, the vivid red of the blood mocked him as he pushed the door open and dropped to his knees at the sight that greeted him.

 

Blood coated almost every surface in the room, and the metallic smell almost made him - a man who had been near more blood than most - retch. And there, on the once white wall, was a single sentence written in the vivid red blood that made Bucky think of her favourite lipstick.

 

_When is a man not a man?_

The question mocked him, and he stared at it blankly until Darcy’s discarded phone began ringing, without thinking, he reached down and picked it up, bringing it to his face and not speaking a sound as his ears were assaulted with the sound of the screams of the woman he loved. A voice he knew all too well spoke to him from the other end, sending shivers down his spine and hardening the ice that had begun creeping back up over his carefully thawed heart.

 

“ _When he is an asset instead_ ,”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, Haha, Ha... *Hides behind a rock* Don't kill me please
> 
> So what did we think about that? Lets get a show of hands, who hates me right now?
> 
> New poll : If I were to say I posted the first chapter of the sequel right before I posted this, who would still hate me? 
> 
> Srs though, I love hearing what you think, and I have been so fucking overwhelmed by the amazing response I've gotten on this story, now take your amazing cute butts and transfer your amazingness to the next part of this journey ;)


End file.
